Is it that time of year already? Good grief, I feel like we’ve barely set foot into summer, and now all the signs of season change are making their appearance.

Have you noticed that the light has shifted from omnipresent to slowly settling into shadows? Or that twilight—a sublime phenomenon that seems endless in summer—has become more ephemeral?

The scents have altered, too. Gone is the fragrance of clover and honeysuckle, the moist and earthy essence of worms emerging from soaked soil, marking their territory everywhere. What remains is woodsier, somehow, darker, not the fresh green that reminds me of summers spent learning to swim, and riding horses in the Berkshires.

And animal behavior is different, more insistent, aggressive, with abandoning shells from nuts they’re burying for later use. More than once a crocus or hyacinth or tulip pops up in early spring where I never planted a bulb—an unintended gift from a creature that is too acquisitive to be discriminating.

In the meantime, though, they are making a mess, particularly on our driveway, which is flanked by two enormous oak trees. So we watch where we walk and sweep and sweep the shells into piles, knowing this will have to be repeated until the first hard freeze. With the way they’re accumulating, I suspect it might be sooner than later, as I figure squirrel instincts are attuned to seasonal shifts in ways mine are not. We’ll see.

But speaking of nuts, this brilliant trio from Stephen Sondheim’s Company has its own view of frustrating behaviors. Enjoy!

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