The end, the beginning, the weirdness


am home after as many weeks away as I could manage, and I feel like I’ve crashed into the end of summer.

The leaves outside are wide and about to turn brown; the apples are starting to fall, the earth is heavy and moist. Is it time to usher out the spiders and scoop up the sand and dust? Is it time to brew tea and listen to the bubble and plop of boiling blackberries? Time to buy a new jar of nutmeg, lay out the mint leaves and orange rinds, and cover the season’s pears with cinnamon and rum.

Lay the fire. Place the books on the cushions, and throw a blanket over the chair. Consider, first, a run in the late summer rain.



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