the downward part of summer is here, the august light blasting. harsh. every flaw in the landscape is magnified all the way till the stars come out. it is at last hot hot hot, a month still to go before autumn arrives. breezes blow and it is even hotter. the birds this morning are silent, but the rose of sharon trees are full of bees and draw me near, pull me in.
a reader tells me that where she lives "all august it has been october". we have only been august, and even then, only now. we may reach 100° by tomorrow, and if so, it will be our first. summer comes late this year. we may not reach october until the end of the year, our seasons sliding slowly one into another. i am already planning - there will be a pumpkin under the christmas tree.