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Autumn is the mellower season, and what we lose in flowers we more than gain in fruits. ~ Samuel Butler

We’re on the downward slope of July. August will be here before you know it. Mom always said once you hit Independence Day, summer seems to just fly by. That’s been especially true this year. And, so, every year, round about this time, I start daydreaming about fall and the cooler, drier air that comes – blissfully, beautifully, serenely – as we venture into the loveliest months of the year, back-to-school September and the crown jewel, October.

Today, our dewpoints are firmly entrenched in the mid-70s, well into the ‘miserable’ range. Outdoor tasks, I do them quickly, eager to return to the chilling balm of air conditioning. This afternoon, I turned on my TV, navigated to YouTube and enjoyed a hint of fall by way of autumn asmr ‘ambience’ videos. Soothing rain, pumpkins, haystacks, crackling fireplaces, cozy sits with a steaming mug of yummy goodness, a colorful throw and lighted candles in every corner and on every shelf.

Looking a bit further down the road, I know there will be a multitude of Halloween asmr’s to make me shiver and put a creepy, comfy smile on my face. Truly, I cannot wait!

It’s still summer though and we just have to deal with all that glorious sunshine and her attending heat and humidity. We have plenty of time for boating fun, wineries, live music, riding bikes, margaritas out on the deck and, one of my favorites, the sound of cicadas turning our Chanticleer pear tree into a living, breathing network of buzzing castanets.

There are two kinds of people here in the Midwest, those who appreciate all four seasons (some more than others, like me!) and those who grumble about autumn’s approach because of ‘what comes next’. I love the change of scenery throughout the seasons and prefer to view the cyclical changes year in, year out with a more positive frame of mind.

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7/27/2015

in a cozy chair, I journal next to a NW window

it’s early morning & the sun hovers, somewhere,

behind a sheath of milky-white clouds

*

stepping briefly outside for what I hope

will be fresh air, I’m stunned at its heavy stillness

*

I’m lost in a good book as darkness descends —

the leaves of our white birch hazard north to south

& rain polka-dots the dusty windows

in advance of the quickening onslaught

*

I continue with my reading,

the furious summer storm

a soothing balm to the internal ravages

Mom’s recent death has unleashed

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~ for Mom, August 5, 1935 – July 16, 2025

husband notices a small group sitting on the ground,

in a tight circle, in a corner of lawn

when we pull up to the Vet’s office,

for Coco’s yearly vaccinations.

the clang & rattle of wheels on pavement

makes a loud, disturbing noise

as a young woman in scrubs pushes a small gurney

across the parking lot. ~ of course.  it makes sense now.

a mournful family, saying their final goodbyes, sharing memories

of happier days, expressing, I’m sure, just how much

this canine loved one has meant to each of them and how much

they’ll miss his silly antics, that goofy grin, those sweet puppy eyes,

laughing about when Fido was one very naughty little boy, indeed.  

and I am struck by a shared camaraderie.  ~ my mother passed away

two days ago, & our own small group of family and friends, will soon

gather in a few days to offer up our own memories and affections,

shed our collective grief and commune as one body to celebrate her life. 

we’ll share funny stories & zany anecdotes of one who’s meant so much

to us, each in our own time and in our own unique and loving ways.