Today is Summer, Tomorrow is Fall


 

Today is Summer, Tomorrow is Fall

Every year in September I remember a poem, September, I had to memorize in fourth grade. I tried to find the author on the Internet, but couldn’t. I think it’s by Vachel Lindsay.

 

A road like brown ribbon

A sky that is blue

A forest of green

With that sky peeping through.

Asters, deep purple

A grasshopper’s call

Today is Summer

Tomorrow is fall.

 

As I move this month from my summer home in Munds Park to my winter home in Scottsdale, the change is that sudden. Up in Munds Park I’m enjoying the changing of the seasons: the yellow, red and orange leaves on the trees; the crispness in the morning air; and using the flannel sheets.

I’m reminiscing about the summer: the weddings I attended; the grandkids’ visits; the lively discussions with the book club; the helpful critiquing of the writing group; the lunches and dinners at the country club, Patio in the Pines and The Pinewood; seeing my play “Pet Peeves” performed for Cabaret Nights; much glittering on cards and fabrics, fun with people escaping the heat of the Phoenix summer; pickleball; listening to The Mother Road Trio and other live music; and catching up with my summer friends. And, of course, my summer romance. Alas, it did not survive longer than the summer. (Question to self: Why am I so easy to dump?)

As it gets too chilly for me in Munds Park I look forward to returning to the Valley of the Sun and a winter of lunch and movies with friends, my winter book club, a contract job, more time with my family, and the impending birth of my fourth granddaughter.

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