We've had a lot of rain this week, and just a few leaves are beginning to turn red. With the poet people say that April is the cruelest month, and somehow go all-over weepy because spring is so poignant.
Me? I think September is the cruelest. Intense summer beauty begins to turn dark and dismal. Leaves fall into ponds which then start to stagnate. I feel the threat of frost in the morning air. Before September ends we might have all the impatiens turning black, and no more fresh, local tomatoes and peaches. If we have a commitment to eating local, we will soon be back to apples, cabbages, carrots, and potatoes. I haven't been a schoolchild in years, but September still whispers: no freedom...
Also, it's allergy month. People say goldenrod isn't the culprit for most snifflers and sneezers. It blooms at the stuffiest moment of the year, as far as I'm concerned.
I wouldn't mind if the geese would fly away, though. I heard that there's negotiation to reduce the international protection of these flying pests. They stay here all year, dirtying up the grass in our nice park.