I must admit that, while I am always pleased to kick summer out the door, this year I am truly worshipping at fall's feet. What a horrid, horrid summer! Deadly drought, wildfires, not one blessed summer tomato to make it worthwhile and my favorite flip-flops broke early on.
So now, I can enjoy the approaching fall and I can assure any doubters that I am well and good enjoying it! I even enjoy stumbling outdoors in the pre-dawn hours to refill the dog's water trough. It's crisp, quiet and still at that hour and I sometimes linger a bit before coming back indoors to send him to his day.
A few moments ago, I was outside with him and, while he chased old gnawed-on tennis balls, I decided to officially say good-bye to the garden that never was. Between the lack of water, oppressive heat and assaults by a dog, that poor garden never had a chance. It was so pretty back in the spring when squash, zucchini and tomato plants were installed and there were some hopes that it would make it, but not one blessed thing survived that plot of land.
So, it had become time (actually, it was time months ago) to slip the tomato cages out of the ground and store them away for next spring. The dog was chasing tennis balls and suddenly I heard the sound of the carillon from the Methodist church in town.
In the cool autumn air, the pure, simple notes were sounding out a hymn --one whose name is long forgotten to me although I could still hum along--and those notes were floating out over the whole town.