I took the puppy for a walk this morning before the heat descended. The air was still. Nobody else was around, but for some reason I had a strange feeling someone was watching.
Here and there, random grapefruits, limes, avocados and other fallen fruit decorated the grass. I checked the progress of a bunch of bananas around the corner from where we live - still a vivid green. Then, the ritual stop to smell a seductive rose.
Now conscious we might not be alone, I reflected on the last few weeks, sorry to realize summer is almost over. I had visions of making this a boom summer for creativity. Instead, the last two months have been a journey, although I never went away. Family dramas and other commitments consumed a lot of time and emotional real estate. I immersed myself in painting in July, but didn't make much progress on my writing. My writing group meets on Saturday, the first day of September. A new start.
I wonder what this tree has seen. A thousand stories it will never tell.
What about your stories of summer?