How old am I?

Wishing for autumn to begin makes me feel old. When you're young, you just want summer to last forever. You want to savor the last burning days of August, the last days of freedom. Question marks and blanks of our own design.

Still, the damp that follows the rains that are breaking our drought makes me wistful for a slight chill, a noisy windbreaker shielding me from the world.

It's a Belle and Sebastien day in my head. Must often feel like I am dreaming of in Scotland. But then it gets too cold, we get buried in down, we want the burn again. The simple rhythmic cycle.