I realize that soon the summer heat will be a thing of the past. The cold autumn winds will force us to close the windows, and we'll wonder where the warm days went. Yet after this summer, I can't help but think I'll welcome those bitter winds. Sure, today is supposed to be the last scorcher for a while, but until the air grows cooler I fear that all inspiration to write will simply melt inside me.
So I say, bring on the yellow leaves, the orchards sagging with fall fruit, the woodsmoke and the football games. I'm ready, and I'm willing.