Thoughts on the End of Summer

In less than a week, the air in the Pioneer Valley where I live has changed. It's become crisp and breezy, still August warm, but summer is making way for another season

New Englanders begin to lament the loss of summer the day after the 4th of July. By now we are actively thinking ahead to September. The leaves will turn from green to red and yellow and orange and then the trees will be bare, the ground will harden, the temperatures will drop.

But I'm in no rush. I'm still appreciating. I've figured a few things out this summer, returned to Cape Cod and my ocean, let go and leaned into the life I have and the life I want. Soon I will be writing poems again and polishing new and old words and spending time in the magic land of small children. I will do all this while I begin my escalating grumble about the winter and snow to come.

But now I'm reminiscing: here, some snippets, my summer, 2011.

Madly in love with my new kitchenA child and a dog madly in love with each other
a return to Provincetown after five years of only visiting

good goofy times with good goofy friends

a new love: photo of four day old Logan James taken by aspiring photographer, all by himself, Mr. Ryan, age 4

and last weekend, as evidence of another season, a visit to a local orchard

and finally, two little boys meet their brother:

Dear god, let me be giddy. (a pilfered word from a dear giddy friend). I've reread the poem in my last post several times now. I know that my own vow is that I not waste my life wishing for different or clinging to then. My own vow is that I not waste my life, period. If you ask me I will tell you this should be easier than it often is, although I can't tell you why. But I know this: I am damned and determined to wear myself out. In time. No rush.

love

kj