Day 330: It was too short, summer. Impolitely, it came late and left early, like a guest who felt obligated to put in a token appearance at Aunt Matilda's birthday party. Oh, it wore a smile when anyone was looking, but as soon as it saw the opportunity, it crept quickly through the crowd and disappeared.
Already a light toss of snow has touched the upper Mountain. The mornings have damp edges and a fringe of chill. Best lay in a stash of good books, wash your woolly socks and chop some kindling because winter's already got its toe in the door.
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