The heat and humidity were sent packing for a couple of days this week when the leftover traces of Hurricane Florence breezed into our neck of the woods.
My heart goes out to those who lost so much in the throes of that storm and I’m grateful to live where I do where the only after-effects we usually receive from hurricanes are a bit of rain.
I’m hoping summer is fading fast and ready to be put to bed. After all, the first official day of the autumn season is in sight.
I’ve never hidden the fact that I am not a summer lover. I’d like that season better if it was mellower and didn’t grab us, thrown us down, and hold us in a headlock of sweltering weather.
“When summer opens, I see how fast it matures, and fear it will be short; but after the heats of July and August, I am reconciled, like one who has had his swing, to the cool of autumn.” ~ Ralph Waldo Emerson
So of course, I am more than ready for a change of season. In my book, you can’t go wrong with fall. But even saying that, there is one thing I will miss about summer.
The bright blooms in our flower garden, the little bursts of colorful wildflowers that grow on the sides of the roadways, and when there’s enough moisture throughout the season, the verdant color of green leaves and grass.
So before the reds, golds, oranges, and yellows of autumn start flaunting their gem-toned colors, I’ll offer up one last tribute to summer’s blossoms. One last hurrah. And then I want to send it off to dreamland.
“Summer is a promissory note signed in June, its long days spent and gone before you know it, and due to be repaid next January.” ~ Hal Borland
While Papa and I were vacationing in New England, it was still June and summer’s colors were in abundance. The lovely scent and pretty pink of sea roses along the coast of Maine caught my eye.
And the plethora of spiky purple, lavender, and pink lupine we viewed all through our travels up north garnered my attention and begged to have their photos taken.
But it’s time to say farewell to them all. And welcome to fall. And I am ready.
“When summer gathers up her robes of glory, And, like a dream, glides away.” ~ Sarah Helen Whitman