My old friend is back!

I did swing by the optician's.  And I did tell her about the problem with the new glasses.  And, yes, she laughed a good laugh.

"Did you have a good week?" she asked.

"More like did I have a good summer.  It is over" I said referring to the light rain that was falling outside.  "I suppose there is a time for everything."

"Yes."

We knew it would happen. That the summer would come to an end.  Our days on the porches and patios would soon become a distant memory.

When the sun shone brightly and with enormous warmth, and even when we complained about the terrible heat, we were fully aware that it was a passing phase.

Without fail, it happened.

Like that, summer is gone.

The clouds are back. The rains are here.

"I don't have to water my yard anymore" remarked the clerk at the grocery store, which was my intended destination.  "It will save me at least twenty dollars a month."

Always the party-pooper, I reminded him that it would also mean something else. "You will pay a lot more than that in heating bills" and I smiled.

"Ah, yes, any which way nature gets you to pay" he added with a nodding head.

In a way, we are glad that the seasons change when they are supposed to change.  Else, it is trouble.  To everything, "turn, turn, turn."

The gentle wind that invited me to keep the door open through the summer evenings is now cool enough for me to lock up the doors and windows.  My memory reached back into my school years in the old country and desperately tried to recall a poem about the wind. Growing old means that there is gradual fading. A word here and a word there is all I could recall.

But, I remembered the poet's name: Christina Georgina Rossetti.

Google and "transactive memory" to the rescue!  Here is that poem:

Who has seen the wind?   
By Christina Georgina Rossetti

Who has seen the wind?

Neither I nor you:

But when the leaves hang trembling,

The wind is passing through.

Who has seen the wind?

Neither you nor I:

But when the trees bow down their heads,

The wind is passing by.