“August rain: the best of the summer gone, and the new fall not yet born. The odd uneven time.” Sylvia Plath
Summer feels official over. In the town I live in, every September for the past twenty years we have held an art's festival. Artists and musicians as well as other vendors from all over the country come to our town and entertain us all weekend with art, music, food, and beer. When it's over, fall seems to loom closer. As my friend and I sat and listened to the last band totally entertain the crowd with fabulous old time rock n' roll on Sunday afternoon, we commented on this festival really marking the end of summer. Soon the wind will blow and the weather will be cooler. But for that moment we were all sitting in the perfect 70 degree sunny weather enjoying the band, eating festival food, and basking in the last moments of summer - as if we were still kids.
