Wilted and withered, Summer began to rot on the vine.  Her once dewy, fresh face grew sallow and somber under the impossible weight of hot, humid temperatures and lack of moisture.  Her youth and vigor were fading fast.   As season’s change and weather cycles, rain can seemingly turn off…

  We’ve slogged through June in hip waders amidst the persistent leaden, gray malaise.  The air largely unstable and ostensibly resentful, like a teenage girl scorned.  The few sunny days provided fleeting relief, but we were wary and suspicious, and we were right to be.   With Summer’s official arrival, and the…

She stood slender and tall, majestic and noble, clad in her sapphire gown of petals and glittering diamonds of dew.  She was, at once, royal and proud, yet demure and gracious.  Posturing amidst the wind and rain.  A beacon of loveliness and tenacity.  A sign of Summer’s emergence. This weekend we’ll be celebrating Memorial…

  August, like a cherished, faded bloom, is being tucked away and pressed between the pages of an unwieldy book to be preserved and remembered as a sweet and affable time.  Summer is dwindling and grows weary and worn, her youthful looks strained and antiquated.   But despair not.  In addition to…

  July, forward facing and fresh, tightened its grasp on the passed baton as June quickly faded from a race well run.  The change was barely perceptible, until yesterday.   Independence Day often marks the beginning of the end of Summer.  Logically, it makes little sense, but time seems to…

Like a thousand tiny lanterns flickering here and there amongst the fading light, the Fireflies made a rousing return to the evening landscape.  Their debut seemed celebratory, and we were a captive audience.  As the night sky deepened and darkened, their numbers seemed to multiply, not to be outdone by…

  The air was polluted with tiny tufts of cotton, which neither fell nor glided to the ground, but instead bounced around on the breeze like atoms pinging off each other before eventually descending and snagging onto any and every surface in the landscape.  Some lawns seemed to take the brunt of…

  Ah, June.  The sweetest of the Summer months.  Gentle and blithe.  Light and amiable.  Warm and wholesome.  She is but a peck on the cheek, called to court the child in us to frolic in her fields.   Though it is not yet officially summer, she can no longer be ignored. …

Change is coming.  A great shift from the rote and routine, schedules and deadlines.  The walls of our compartmentalized lives are being razed, and the tethers loosened.  Schools are racing to the finish line, and soon our lives will follow the arrhythmic beat of Summer’s drum.  Memorial Day marks the beginning…

September belongs to both seasons, straddling the line between Summer and Fall.  The tug-o-war that will soon commence often leaves September as Summer’s anchor, further proving my theory that she is ultimately a trader.  September should mark the beginning of Fall, as the autumnal equinox falls squarely within her borders, yet she lists egregiously to…

The air had yet to be polluted and remained fairly clear and buoyant up until today.   Soon the crushing heft of humidity would contaminate the atmosphere, leaving us in a haze of scorching torridness and malaise, wilted and soulless.  I hate Summer. The sad thing is, it’s not even Summer yet.  We have exactly…

There are times when the clouds become part of the landscape, rising from the earth like great, snow-capped mountains.  I like to imagine the Midwest’s tectonic plates have crashed and sent forth a mighty range which hovers above us in the highest and thinnest of atmospheres, teetering on the brink of space,…