September
2002 09 01
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September is a word that conjures up deep, cobalt blue and sharpness, crispness, like snappy fresh vegetables. September is a time of transition, from slowpoke summer to withering winter, when we leave off August oppression and prepare for October autumn. September is the summing up of summer. It is one of the few times of year when one can breath with ease, neither with the wheezing of summer's heat, nor the shuddering of winter chill. It is a time when I have always felt most free, most balanced, without the headiness of spring's shedding of skin. I am myself, now.