Late Summer On the DaM Farm

Early last week, I went out for one last look around before going to bed and something about the night made me think that late summer is here. I don't know what exactly it was, the dew was heavy and the air was past stillness. The signs have been here for a while; days a little shorter and the nights have lost their heat and humidity. Of course the harvest is coming in fast and furious, even my tomatoes are sporting the barest blush of red on their green skin. But it's always at night when I realize that it's late summer.

I always think of summer as a small boy. A little guy, may-be four - six years old. Summer here is like that wee fellow who has spent the day at the beach throwing sand in the air, chasing seagulls and splashing in the waves. By the end of the day, he sits on his oversized beachball, his toasted hand supporting his flushed face By his stillness and the deepness of his thought I know he's thinking of leaving. He's tired and spent, the warmth he has exuded all day is waning and a chill touches down as the sun sets on the waves.

So small boy Summer is having a last look around where he has had so much pleasure and brought life, laughter and joy. But he won't rush, he'll hang around for a little, waiting until he sees his red-headed sister making her way towards him. Late Summer and I both now wait for Autumn.