Ten minutes to write. Less time to read.

I didn’t even acknowledge it, but while I was learning about smart phones and boxing books yesterday, autumn arrived. And summer departed.
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I normally take note of the date, even though the formal passing of the seasons rarely coincides with the Gregorian calendar or the temperatures of the month. What is noticeable, however, are the falling leaves. Oh they’re not falling like rain or snow – at least not yet – but they begin immediately to cover our lawn just after the man who mows it is finished.
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My various containers of plants also react. Some go to seed; others simply die off. Both are signals that summer’s growing season is over and we need to shut down for fall. This year, I’m shutting down for the last time in this house. It’s a bi-polar sort of things. On the one hand, I’m eager to be free of the work of an acre of manicured land. On the other, I’m reveling in the beauty of autumn on the St. Joseph River, realizing that this time next year it will be our new owner’s view.