A FALLING LEAF IS NOTHING MORE THAN SUMMER WAVING GOODBYE

Three months ago I was hunched down on my knees, troweling two spindly four-inch-high tomato plants into a large tin container next to our deck. Today, they’re 10 feet high and doubled-over with chunky ripe tomatoes. I could easily supply most of coastal Maine, if not the tomato soup division of Campbell’s, with my beefsteaks and yellow cherries.

Seems like I planted them yesterday.

Two months ago I drove to New Hampshire to pick up a female rescue cat. Mr. Wonderful and I were so excited to have her join our family after a long cat-less hiatus. But when we got her home, the skinny little kitty bolted downstairs and hid in the deep dark innards of our basement for three days. 

Today, plumped-up and sassy Sunshine “owns” the living room couch, her toy mice and catnip lobsters are scattered throughout the house, and she’s a member in good standing of the Clean Plate Club as she wolfs down three Fussie Cat entrees a day.

Tempus fugit.

The photo above was taken seven years ago on the morning my two Portsmouth grands headed back to school.

Early this week I had lunch with Maddie, now a high school junior with long blonde hair. She drove to my home, sporting gold hoop earrings and micro-mini shorts, looking drop-dead gorgeous. Over lunch, we discussed her first semester classes, including anatomy and physiology. When did she get old enough to take classes like that? Just last month we were playing Go Fish.

The following day, Max, a freckle-faced handsome ginger who’s an engineering major at UNH, drove 40 minutes on his black Honda motorcycle from his dorm to meet me at Loco Coco in Kittery, a tasty Mexican restaurant. The budding mechanical engineer who wants to build robots told me about his class in “dynamics” — thermal or water or something-or-other dynamics. (Does anyone know what “dynamics” is? Or are?) (When did he grow old to know more than me?)

Time is moving at the speed of Serena’s serve. I drive along Route 1 to the meat market and pass garden centers displaying mums and pumpkins. SLOW IT DOWN! I went shopping the other day and saw the perfect Christmas gift for my daughter. NOT YET!  My fall-blooming asters look like they’re ready to pop. HOLD ON!

Because even though I’m over-gazpacho’ed, golf weary, and my best white slacks are rump-sprung, I’m not quite ready to let go of August.  But each day I discover a fallen red or yellow leaf on the steps of my front porch— just one or two, mind you,, but still! — and I know it’s nature’s way of waving goodbye to the long lazy and wonderful days of summer.