I do not wish for later sunrises. I certainly do not wish for earlier sunsets.
But.
The kids back in school--for weeks locally, the Little League World Series over, men's pro golf finished up, and college football underway signal summer slipping away.
But I'm still pushing the mower weekly, the knockouts and Roses of Sharon are blooming, and the heat index is in the 100s this week. The slippage is slow.
And Labor Day looms. Surely then....
The towering tulip tree behind my property has a few yellow leaves. My red maple out back is showing the earliest signs of coloring.
Small signs.
In the driveway my car sits longer in the shade of the elm I planted 9 years ago--that whole sun angle thing. The spin of our tilt-a-world. My father often reminded me our clocks were out of sync with solar time. Now I remind myself silently. That whole spring forward, fall back thing.
I would like to think I have a handle on the passage of time. I don't. Days steadily come and go, weeks seem chunks tossed away, and months--months rush up on me.
And so it is September. Summer's hiatus over. More to come.
