a beard and guitar can do a lot of damage.
I get a little frantic each time September rolls around. Despite the knowledge that a Pacific Northwest summer extends from July to September rather than the old eastern reliable period of June through August, I can't help but feel a little guilty when given a sunny September. I grasp at it, demand that it extend the vigor of July, and basically end up treating the end of the season quite rudely. Unashamedly, I use and abuse Septembers.
By September, I've all but forgotten the responsibility that colder weather brings. My chaco tan is set in stone, I've got peach cobbler down to a science, and there's a permanent spot on the front porch for me. The mail piles up, phone calls go unreturned, and my conversational input lags. Someone's gotta be your mason jar of backyard flowers. It's the end of the summer. I'm going outside. We'll talk when the rains come.
posted by jessica @ 12:10 PM
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