The temperature went down to 13 degrees last night. I flung open the windows and crawled beneath my heavy blanket pulled up to my chin and slept comfortably, the air coming in the window fragrant and fresh.
When I got up this morning, the air was still chilly as Gracie and I strolled, but as the wind lifted my hair I heard it whisper its warning.
“Summer is fleeing,” said the breeze and I winced. And it got me thinking about my childhood summers.