It's nearly undetectable. This thing that happens as the calendar page flips to August. But it is there. I feel it as I stand in the morning air with my arms wrapped like a pretzel around me. Waiting on my dogs under the heavy mist.
|Brown eyed susans|
The harvest is abundant in August. And I see the pregnant golden rod ready to burst and send me into a sneezing fit.
We had to pick the apples before the birds did. And I washed them, made a pie, and pondered where to store them. Too many to keep on the counter, what with all the tomatoes and peppers and squash and such already there. Into a wooden box. Left in the sun to dry. Creating autumn right there in my backyard.
But daisies are there too. The quintessential summer blossom. So I know it's not autumn yet.
But it's starting to tickle my nose.