While it is impossible to truly predict the future, some impending aspects are staring us rather rudely in the face.

 

With the advent of September, some tried and true signs of what is to come are manifesting themselves all around us.  The family of Canadian geese that raised their brood on the banks of the Mississippi River near our little lean-to on the levy has embarked on intensive flight training, their v-shaped formation practicing point-to-point navigation and water landings now a daily occurrence.

 

And in recent days our old friend the Polar Vortex decided to pay us a courtesy call, sparking some reports of light snow in the Great White North and a flood of calls to local heating system purveyors, seeking an early furnace tune-up. 

 

Workshops in the GWN are on overtime as mechanics struggle to resuscitate clapped-out snow blowers, the workspaces ringing with the musical clang of dropped tools counterpointed by the flashes of welding torches and muttered broad-vowel comments on the driving ability of the local snowmobiling fraternity.

 

Trust the Old Farmer’s Almanac to chime in as well, noting as it does that, if you enjoyed the long and brutal winter of last year, you can rejoice as you are about to receive the same again.

 

But we must not despair, the Good Book says.  There are compensations, like the riot of color nature provides as the trees go through their annual leaf-shedding performance.  Cleaning the gutters is, indeed, a small price to pay for such a bounteous display of beauty, not to mention the total lack of mosquitoes the first real cold snap engenders.

 

And, there’s football.  Well, we can cheer for the local lads, anyway, even as we shake our heads sadly at the continuing antics of the professional pigskin players, who seem determined to build a new step to perdition every day, if you still watch the news.

 

But hey, it’s an election year!  That’s always good for some cheap entertainment, isn’t it? The colorful signs are popping up everywhere like toxic mushrooms, and the airwaves are just beginning to reek with a trickle of thinly-veiled character assassinations that is sure to become a flood as all parties involved take advantage of unlimited and anonymous contributions.

 

I’m not sure why one particular political party is so determined to paper the landscape in this area, since it is well known that they could elect the proverbial ham sandwich without breaking a sweat.  Good for the sign-makers, though, so let the good times roll, I say.

 

In the world, our Congress seems paralyzed by election-year fears, to the point where they are afraid to take a vote so as to not enrage the one or two undecided voters left in their districts.  Nor can we foresee what the outcome will be of this latest not-a-war with ISIS, the new terrorist on the block.  President Obama says we will commit no troops, but history has a way of sweeping around common sense as it makes its way.

 

But I refuse to worry about that which I cannot control.  And when the winter comes, I will pull on my parka and take my sled dog outside, where we will face the north and breathe it in and be glad.