Tuesday, September 1, 2009


  September is a month of beginnings, first steps, new school, new papers, new pencils, new shoes.  Is is a month that begs to be separated from the frivolity of August, of sun baked skin, of dog walks at dusk, of ice cream at midnight just because it's hot and we can.  September is cool mornings that feel like Fall and late afternoons full of sun that remind us ever so gently of August.  The curling brown leaves on the tomato vines, the last few fruit warmed deep orange, thin skin splitting at the touch of a fingertip, the pot of basil so full that even a harvesting doesn't dent the graceful, fragrant green sphere, know that it's September.  September means the calendar begins again, with curfews, early bedtimes and alarm clocks.  With schedules.  September is all business.  September is your chance for a do-over.  Re-invention.  September is the mother of all months.  A re-birth, maternal in its calendar number nine and its need for a hearty woolen sweater. September is a month of moving great distances, physically and metaphorically.  September.

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