Coming Soon

Our driveway received a second coat of a black thick tar-like substance that promises to keep away cracks, fissures, blemishes — when winter snow and winter’s salt do their job. The weeds are dying. The flowers, what is left, sag— but the lavender keeps sending out purple shoots. They refuse to believe the reports that we are moving away from summer.

I wonder how many more games of golf before we quit and say it is too cold. One year friends played until the first snow. Is this the year we play into November? I doubt it, but you never know.

I’m accumulating my winter list of books, of art classes, of new recipes. Yes, I collect recipes — but they often don’t reach the stove.

Then there are the daydreams of autumn— some plausible and others in the realm of fiction. But one can always inhabit fiction.