I always feel guilty for not clinging to the waning summer like you cling to a love you know is over. I haven't done you right, summer. I haven't laid in the grass, didn't take enough walks, haven't worn that sundress. I sometimes doubt my fidelity to summer, even though I love it fiercely.
As darkness gradually envelopes the days and a chill creeps into the nights, angst nips at me. The good-bye to summer is one I never want to say. But, Leslie, she forced me into it.
On Wednesday, I got home late from work, was assaulted by her insistence that we toast summer and the nascent autumn. NOW. We only had five minutes until the official change!
We gathered on our balcony with wine and a sublimely pretty pumpkin.
more pictures here
It was a beautiful day, but the angst was there. The leaves of the basil, tomatoes and peppers we had grown were fading, curling at the edges; brown ate its way up the stalks. I hadn't used this balcony enough this summer. Stupid, ungrateful girl who didn't eat enough basil!
I pretended to give birth to the large heirloom pumpkin because, you know, pretending to birth things is fun. Pretending. And it just seemed like the thing to do. Good-bye, summer. Hello, pumpkin.