The garden smells like summer; but when I lift my eyes, tall oaks and maples remind me that it is September. Their vivid green is rusting around the edges, a process I know will soon accelerate. I adore both seasons. I am reaching for hot cocoa with one hand while I hold on to my lemonade in the other. I thirst for fall, but am not ready to let go of sweet summer. I’ll spend these last barefoot, bare neck days sipping transitional cider, hot or cold.
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Regimen: Wear Sunglasses when Leaf Peeping