The garden is weedy and leggy and the lettuce has bolted. Battered sneakers lay on the front steps, weathered from river walks.  Bathing suits are faded and thread bare from chlorine and salt water. My hair is dry – the texture of summer hay – designed by being out-of-doors more hours than in.

Phone messages are beckoning with blinking lights on the phone console and laundry is statically many loads short of done. Meal planning has digressed to the point that the term ‘meal planning’ cannot be used for what I am doing – which is rummaging through the freezer for appetizers and chicken wings overlooked by the last party. The to-do lists and projects remain undone. Unfortunately. Very unfortunately.

I pursue July & August like a gorgeous, popular best friend of whom I cannot get enough. Pretty and tan – I want all of her attention. I grab at the days desperately in an attempt to feed my addiction to the light, and heat, water, waves and blue skies. I both consume it and am consumed by it in a glorious paradox. Summer.

Even now, there are school forms to be filled out, appointments to be made, routines to be adhered too and activities require that I promptly get on the September merri-go-round.

Excuse me if I don’t comply. If there are sunny warm days that need my attention, I’ll have to reschedule.

September’s Summer only has 18 more days. Astronomical Autumn will occur on September 23.

If it’s good enough for the sun, moon & stars, it’s good enough for me.