I've been in denial that summer is coming to a close--a la the present progressive tense. This last week's unusually warm temperatures didn't help my seasonal confusion either. I think I've been a season behind since June and July were a blur of mid-night feedings and early morning wakings. According to my clock, it's the middle of August.Meanwhile the leaves on our front trees are half fallen and all but our tomatoes, peas, broccoli, lettuce, and spinach are piled in the corner of our garden in a heap, awaiting the tiller. I don't have the heart to pull the spindly tomato plants yet, and the others are thriving in the cooler weather.
I fear by the time I admit summer is over, I will have completely missed autumn's warm colors and be stuck inside the gray winter. I think I'd like having a winter baby; I wouldn't protest missing February and March too much.
