I know it’s only August and so maybe this is wishful thinking on my part, but it sure does feel like Fall. There is a certain tang in the air, a certain slant of the light. A crispness, I suppose. The apples are ripening. The evenings are chilly. I want to wear this skirt, I want it bad. I worked on it this morning, beside the open window, watching a rabbit
eat my tomatoes frolic in the garden. There was hot coffee, and carrot cake for breakfast. The sky was a cloudless blue. Life was good. I noticed the yarn was running out.
And then it did.