White Dog and I waited for the phone call announcing Howard and Jim's arrival at the airport. We haven't seen them in ages and they have not met either Quinn or Michael, so we will have lots of catching up to do as they visit from Chicago this weekend. We sat on the screened front porch basking in the perfect afternoon, enjoying the cooler temps and savoring the filtering light. White Dog and I (and Quinn who had awakened and joined us) wondered aloud where the days of summer had flown. Just to emphasize that the change of season was sneaking up on us, White Dog went to the yard and brought in the first dropped yellow leaf from "her" tree. She offered it up reverently as if she knew its significance...that this weekend (and her leaf) marked the "official" end of summer.
White Dog, The Other White Dog and I stared at the yellow leaf lying against the dark blue rug in the dancing sunbeams. We thought about all that has shaped our lives these past months; we considered things that we had planned and never gotten to; we decided we were ok with the unmapped course we had followed.
Then White Dog grabbed the dry leaf and crumbled it to dust. I could not help but quote David Bowie, "Time may change me....but I can't change time."