Yes, summer is fading, but on the whole, it hasn't been much of a summer. We have had a lot of rain (good for keeping the bushfires at bay), we had no Christmas (for we were in mourning) and the new year kicked off with much the same feel of the last (it is often thus). There have been summery days now and then and a lot of too-warm nights, but it has not been a time of blessed dog-days, food and rest.

Not to complain though. The blue skies are still deeply cheering, the clouds high-builded and even the frequent showers and misty drizzle have their own special charm. On any given day I might wander in the garden to a different experience, one informed by the weather surely, but in which trees and birds seem to have a secret understanding of this liminal time, one which has confounded the mere mortal, I.

The sun is rich
And gladly pays
In golden hours,
Silver days,

And long green weeks
That never end.
School’s out.
The time Is ours to spend.

There’s Little League,
Hopscotch, the creek,
And, after supper,
Hide-and-seek.

The live-long light
Is like a dream,
and freckles come
Like flies to cream.

John Updike