It’s the beginning of the end. Although she won’t admit it, we can see that Summer is thinking about forsaking us, as she always does. She’s letting Goldenrod and Queen Anne’s Lace take over her fading fields; her wild apples are turning red and losing their grips; her light no longer lasts long enough.


One morning in the coming weeks, we’ll wake up and realize with a pang that she left us without saying goodbye. But now, now is when we try to get closer to her and make believe that the two of us can prolong the best of times. (Brooklin, Maine)