It's only the first week of August, but there are signs. The giant Gingko tree is less green, the maples have a touch of fire on their crowns. We have heat in the day, but the shadows hold on to a chill.
The chestnuts have started falling. In years past chestnut season coincided with the beginning of school, and signaled the true end of summer. This year we don't seem to have had a summer at all.
I don't suffer as much from winter depression, thanks to modern medications and full-spectrum lights. I do have a sense of something, a whistful feeling perhaps. I miss. . .something.
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