In July, I usually write about the weather. I make no apologies about that. When I was young, I didn’t write about July weather . And that was because July, and the summer, seemed to last forever. Now, I’m not necessarily old, but I am older. And, I’m well aware time and July goes by faster, and the magnificence of summer in New England is fleeting.
It’s morning and I work on this blog bleary-eyed and drinking coffee, in a wicker chair, on the porch, wearing t-shirt and shorts, barefoot. Perfect weather. My cats Quiet Rustle and Felix loll about. I glance at the snow shovels I neglected to put away standing ready near the backdoor. Leave them there, it will be winter soon enough flashes through my mind. I consider that for a moment.
I resolve right then and there to finally put the snow shovels away.
Everything, indeed, has a season.
copyright 2018 Christopher Donahue