We take them in stride now, the hot days of summer, and the word ‘winter’ has no meaning.
Truly, the idea of snow and cold is an imaginary time, those days when ice storms blocked us in.
Now the cicadas sing, the tomatoes are plentiful, and we turn down offers of watermelon. The flowers sprawl in untidy clumps, the lawn grows without enthusiasm. Time for school buses and traffic from returning university students. The Cat Days of summer begin on the seventeenth.
Autumn sneaks up on us. Harvest Moon is next month. Across our fields of soybeans and corn, there is a faint touch of yellow signaling their end. Soon, harvest will be in full swing and the combines will eat the acres while grain trucks stir up clouds of dust. Days begin before sunrise and end long after twilight.
It is the cycle of our lives and I love it.