The burning bush shrubs in our front yard turn the most amazing red color each fall, but today this first, lonely red leaf caught me by surprise, and I had to stop in the rain to grab a picture. Because we all know what this means. Summer is coming to an end.
This has been a good summer for me, all told. My family is all doing well. Hubby is in the middle of a two-week vacation doing what he loves most, sailing around the Thousand Islands, meeting up with me every weekend. Both kids are on their own, independent but still coming by every week. As for me: I just today put a full stop at the end of the first draft of my novel (more about this draft in a few days, when the hot-forged steam has faded a little). I feel really good about having reached that goal. My niece gets married tomorrow by the river, and I’m happy to see her settling down with just the right guy. I’m basking in the warm glow of a nice summer afternoon–and then this.
I am not ready for summer to end.
Of course, it’s not really ending yet. We’re still in the middle of August. The high temperature today was 82 degrees Fahrenheit (that’s 28 degrees Celsius for the more enlightened part of the world). It’s still okay to wear white! but this one red leaf reminds me that it’s coming to an end, with fall drawing near like time’s winged chariot. I have to start getting ready for classes to begin in a couple of weeks. We’ll be switching from the lawn mower to the leaf blower not long after that. And the next thing we know, we’ll be carving Jack-o-lanterns for Halloween. The overblown luxuriant sensuality of summer is starting to fade,like Norma Desmond. All right, Mr. DeMille, I’m ready for that first hint of wood smoke in the air, for the first rising of Orion in the winter sky.
Okay, I’m getting ahead of myself. But that’s the path I started down when I saw that lone red leaf. Follow me or not, fall will find us all soon.