I read the other day that the Chinese have five seasons. Aside from the regular four, they also count the end of summer as it's very own season. That suits me just fine, being that the transition from late summer to early fall is my favorite time of the year.
I wax poetic about it annually, citing the way the light changes and the dip in the temperature that makes wearing a hoodie the norm again. Late summer seems to have caught us by surprise here in the mountains this year. The local weather channel reported that there has only been one weekend without rain in our area since April! I haven't been swimming, nor have I even donned a bathing suit this year. And I can hardly even remember what the beach looks or feels like. I haven't seen the ocean in almost five years.
The last few years of my life have been a mess. The world seems to be just like this summers weather; dreary with little chance of sunshine. But I know that's just the pessimist in me talking. I know the transition is coming. I know there will be sunshine and beach trips and hopes and dreams fulfilled. I know there is good in this life. And so, I will keep trying. I will soak up any late summer sun that is left. I will smile at the cool breezes and the turning leaves. And just like China, I will count this time of year as a season in itself. Just like nature, I will consider it an invitation to turn inward for the coming winter and cultivate my soul for the time when it will bloom again.