I Hate to Say It

But the signs are all in place.

Foggy mornings.

Shrieking cicadas in the honey locust right next to the kitchen window. There are so many and they are so loud they drown out even the Thruway.

Gold finches in droves, tinkling from thistle to thistle. There are hundreds and they do the baby raising gig now when the seeds they like are plentiful....the other birds have gone silent, even the mockingbird....

Shrinking days....summer days are like wool sweaters. They are hot and itchy but you love them anyhow...and the hotter it gets, and the soggier, the more they shrink, until they are just too short to be good for much of anything. We are getting there fast, alas.

Fall is almost here...