By the end of summer, I am worn out by it, by the heat and the lack of structure and the widespread quest for fun. I am ready for cool, fresh air and changing leaves; for Canadian Geese honking overhead as they fly south, the first smells of wood smoke, and Sunday afternoon football.
Everything has its season and I am grateful for that. As soon as one thing wears thin, here comes the new. Nothing stays and nothing lingers. Life and weather and people and moods come and go like birds to a feeder, or waves as they crawl up the beach and recede with the tide.
I am ready for the change of seasons.
