Swan Song

While sitting in my hot tub tonight, I noticed that the crickets have lost some of their enthusiasm. Instead of sounding like the Tabernacle Choir, they're sounding more like a family reunion group, a little draggy and off-beat. Methinks the "first chairs" have gone where there's a little more S'uthun accent.

The summer nights have been as bold and expansive as Gregory Peck swooping across the valley on his horse to the strains of "Shenandoah" in How the West Was Won.

The music of Fall is always wistful to me, like a beautiful song you wish would go on and on, like Shari Lewis and Lambchop's "This is a song that never ends; it just goes on and on my friends..."

Why is it that a song you love ends way before you wish, but one you don't like at all seems to have never-ending lyrics?

That's how I feel about fall and winter, consecutively.

On a more cheerful note, I looked at the calendar and noticed there are nine more paydays til Christmas. Ho Ho Ho