Greetings from the twilight of summer: school starts tomorrow, the pools are closing, the days are getting shorter, and the thinning light evokes that tender, bittersweet feeling of anticipatory nostalgia—the longing for the thing that hasn’t left yet—the yearning for the summer that still lingers on the porch, in the garden, in the corners of the yard.
28. The Fruits of our Labor.
28. The Fruits of our Labor.
28. The Fruits of our Labor.
Greetings from the twilight of summer: school starts tomorrow, the pools are closing, the days are getting shorter, and the thinning light evokes that tender, bittersweet feeling of anticipatory nostalgia—the longing for the thing that hasn’t left yet—the yearning for the summer that still lingers on the porch, in the garden, in the corners of the yard.