Remembering an autumn in Utah with fondness. This was 2013, one year before I met Chuck, when I spent most of my days with my little Boston terrier named Marley.
This last day of the month, before the calendar turns to October, I have regarded September with the sentimentality reserved for dear friends.
I've strained my eyes to see the changing colors of leaves on the mountain. The frequent thunderstorms have helped ease the transition to cooler temperatures. I've watched for the first frost, ready at last, to trade in my fresh tomato sandwiches for steaming bowls of tomato soup. The cattails behind the house are starting to go to seed, exposing their white, fluffy down inside their fuzzy brown coats.
We have one more day to squeeze the last bits of goodness out of September, and I intend to do just that. Sunday, my Boston terrier Marley and I walked along the edge of the animal sanctuary and beside the canal on the Clearfield Trail near our home. I took note of the ducks, the berries, the Russian Olives, the wild sunflowers with most of their yellow petals missing, and the subtle changes in the leaves.
Summer is fading into fall, and I intend to enjoy every single sign of my favorite season.