Today is cloudy and rather bracing, 49˚F at the moment with a predicted high of 65˚. Yesterday was gorgeously blue, not a cloud in the sky, though even cooler—taking until late afternoon to rise above the 60˚F mark. None of which is offered by way of complaint.
When there's dew on the grass and a nip in the air, I feel grandly alive. While the world along the river remains dressed in summer's green, a close look reveals things are yellowing and somewhat tattered, like an old dress worn and washed too many times, before getting hung in the back of the closet. There's no doubt a corner has been turned. Personally, I welcome this seasonal change. I'll be glad to see the leaves begin donning their patchwork colors, glad to spend some days rambling about in fields rich with goldenrods and purple asters where I always feel like I'm walking through an antiquarian tapestry…glad to shiver when I first step outside, take a deep breath, and feel my blood zing.
Summer is my least favorite of the seasons. With me, a little goes a long way. This time around it's been too hot, too dry, for too long, a guest that's already overstayed its welcome. We'll have another torrid encounter next year. But for now…
Adios and fare-thee-well!