It may still be August, but in my neck of the woods Fall is about ready to make its grand appearance. A couple of mornings lately, it’s been cool enough to warrant a bit of a fire in the woodstove, and vanguard leaves are beginning to change their clothes. My garden is past its prime, although we will continue to harvest its gifts for several weeks yet.
Truth be told, it’s a rather melancholy time of the year. Saying good-bye to our ever-so-brief summer is often hard for me. I think this year it’s more difficult than usual because I’m also saying good-bye to Susan, to Iris, and to Alan who has informed us he’s moving in with a friend at the end of September. Apart from Susan’s passing, which came far too early in her life, these changes are part of the normal course of events. They are as they should be and mostly I’m happy about them, but I am still permitting myself that conflicted mixture of pride and heartache any parent must feel when their children step out into the world on their own. Very soon, our house is going to get a whole lot bigger and a whole lot emptier.