September is a jar of honey on a windowsill, a yellow Labrador lolling on the grass, a sun-kissed stillness before winter.
How is it that Labor Day weekend is already upon us? There is a strange acceleration of time after the Ag Fair.
There is nothing to say about Henri except that we went into the weekend nicely stocked, which meant no more trips to the grocery store for several days, and that is happiness.
It's Fair week! Are you excited?
Have you noticed the Queen Anne's lace along the roadsides? Does it always lay so thickly across the fields in August, or is it having a banner year?
Living as we do, surrounded by visitors on holiday, certainly has its perks. That delicious, delirious, somewhat frantic vacation feeling is infectious.
The transition from July to August is kind of a big deal here, isn't it?
Lately I've been thinking about dirt road etiquette. Some of us travel dirt roads on a daily basis and usually they are a charming way to get from one place to another.
It's rather odd writing this column several days before it will be read. For example, at this moment we are living in a water-colored world. It rained yesterday; it is raining now; it will always be raining.
