September 22^nd, the fall equinox.  I've positioned myself here in the middle of the road with my camera so that I can record the rising of the sun.  It will come up in the east, right straight down our county road.

I love fall.  The world goes quiet, and there's a special feeling in the air.  I realized that the reason the world is quiet in the fall is because the birds have left.

I particularly miss the swallows.  The barn swallows come every April and build mud nests up under the eaves by our back door.  They're right outside our bedroom.  They're the first thing I hear when I wake in the morning.  They talk and chatter back and forth.  I try hard to understand what they're saying.  I can't understand the individual words, but they're telling one another what a glorious day it's going to be.

“The sun is almost up!  It's time to fly and swoop and dive and find breakfast.  Isn't it great to be alive?!  We get to live here where there's a pond and lots and lots of mosquitoes to eat.  The people love us because we don't let a single mosquito get to their house.—And we're free!  It's so much fun to fly and dip and be able to instantly change course.  We're working, but we're having fun while we do it.”

That's what the swallows are saying to one another.  I appreciate what the swallows do.  I very much enjoy watching them be happy.

But here comes the equinox sun.  The second set of baby swallows that the pair hatched on my back porch finally fledged out and left the nest just four days ago.  The main group massed on the power lines at the end of August, and all took to the air and left September 1^st.  These late ones will have to play catch-up.

I hate to see them go.  But they'll be back!  The first ones will arrive early—before there are enough mosquitoes for them to eat.  The first one will come at the spring equinox, when the sun gets right back to this very same spot after its long trip to the south.

That's where the swallows go, too.

It's comforting to know that they'll both be back.