In my dreams it is. In my plans it is.
And the days are still warm enough though the nights are getting cold.
I have not ridden my bike nearly enough. I have not painted the second trellis. I have not laid the gravel on the last walkway.
. . . the last lovely fragrant bunch of Concord grapes made into jam . . .
. . . the last tomatoes and peppers, still beautiful and bright-colored in all their various squiggly shapes, all chopped and bottled into salsa . . .
. . . still I won’t be ready for fall to fall this year.
Classes have begun — with their safe structure and regular, reachable demands — but I still haven’t written up the great stuff I’ve been gathering this summer about local and organic food options . . .
Old Oregon Smokehouse, Hermiston Melons Farmstand, St. Helens Community Garden, The Fruit Truck, Columbia County Natural Organic Buyers’ Club, Kruger’s Farm Sauvie Island Store, Scappoose Fred Meyers, end of driveway fruit stand, Scappoose Farmers’ Market
What’s more, I still have “Small Town Revival” quotes collected . . . and recollections of past glories . . . and dreams of a better future.
I still have pictures from many many discovery rides around my town . . . forgotten corners . . . steps down to the creek . . . a painted door . . . laughing people at sidewalk tables under sun-brellas . . . the big empty windows of lovely old buildings . . . boats in the marina.
I still have notes from some of the sweetest escape rides — right within my own county — I’ve ever taken. Am I supposed to let them fall and fade and crumble into a silver dust like last year’s butterfly wings against the screen?
And if we are already moving on into the autumn, what am I supposed to do with the whole file of wild sweet pea I gathered for a friend?
(Here, my friend — these are for you.)