Reading harold_maude's journal

Well summer is slowly drifting away into the threads and winds of autumn. And as the changes in the trees respond to the call of nature the color pallet is about to explode.

Even the sent in the air is changing. From the warm liquid ambrosia of starlit nights and brillian explosions of flowers that frame summer green to the crisp cooling sweet and tangy perfume that invites long walks in a magical world of color that seems to invite story telling.

The gatherings that take place follow the same pattern. The next three months will be filled with the excitement of celebration that weaves in and out of every day.
We remember much durring this time, and it grows and grows with it's cresting happening at the same time the start of the new year according to the gregorian calandar takes place.

We watch our summer love begin to die, the roses get sleeply and as the blooms grow less and less frequent before all that remains are the naked eyes that cover the bodies in the gardens of summer.

I love this time of year, simply because the change that takes place. How summer gently gives way to autums exotic dance, while all the time, I'm very sure that inside the hollows of the sundrenched land there is a cry that goes up in the hearts of thoes who worship at her feet, "We wish this never to end!"

But it does, and the seasons change, and before we are even aware the fist snows of winter will begin to fall. The magical white kisses melting on the warm cheeks of children everywhere, no matter their age.

So we bid thee fair well and adu sweet songbird of summer, with carefree laughter and bright days. We'll miss your rages of storms that you lash upon our doorsteps and love the light shows that make your wings turn purple and black.
We'll miss your song so warm and sweet, fair summer tis now your time to fall gracefully to sleep.

Let autum come, with dazzling display of sunset drenching our every day, for only a short while your color sings, then to greys and deeps of matted brown leaves lay with memories at our feet.

We will miss you sweet lady of summer and while there is still green upon the hills, and the last rose with dying breath, kisses our sleep one more time, we'll remember through the long winter snows and early spring that your return is shortly in comming, and does so quicker with each passing year.
We love you while you are here, and yet with the knowing of your soon return, we will miss you not so much as if you were gone forever, ner to return.

Good night sweet lady of summer, goodnight...until we greet each other again, I say goodnight with a smile upon my lips...goodnight.

It only looks that way because your standing on your head.