We held onto the last scrap of summer, refusing to believe that the corner of that shimmery scarf would slip out of our hands. But all this week, I've awoken to temperatures in the mid-sixties. It was cold enough for me to holler at Boo to wear a jacket, knowing full well it would be discarded on the play ground blacktop. Summer is gone; Autumn is here.
But I recall the shimmery, soft scarf, its reality is with me. Not sere nor not surreal, but real.
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