Her fine lines becoming visible in the fading blossoms, leaves gently turning, fluttering in the trees. The heat less intense, mornings start without the fanfare, but more gratitude, skin bathing in golden light.
The sun that ripens the wheat in August ages Summer further.
Softened, relaxed and settled into her daily routine, she gradually moves toward her eventual retirement.
Hazy air, cloudless skies, warm days, temperatures drop a few more degrees. Her grasp on the sultry nights weakens, allowing us precious sleep previously denied. Campers packed, tents pitched with the knowledge that one day they will be put away for the year. Summer’s memories are created not just with technology, but with our eyes, and our every sense.
We find ourselves mindfully spending time listening, thinking, feeling, touching every aspect of summer. Drinking up those precious moments, storing it away in a canning jar to be opened in the dark of winter. As if we could capture it by touch, by sight, by scent, to be recalled at will, during a snow storm on a dark night.
Stock up, fill up, harvest the extra memories, build a rapport with the light, cast your net upon the fresh water of the lake, and gather it into your boat.
Reel it in, scoop it up, pluck it from the vine.
Every second savoured is one that you will need to remember until next spring. Live to the utmost, taste, feel, sense every aspect of summer. Sun goes down, rays lengthen, mountains bask in the low light, reflecting golden fields of grain. Nights darken, air warms, cools, birds sing before bedtime.