All I kept thinking about this weekend was the imminent end of summer. As I was lounging on my favorite stones, waiting for more Tom Sawyer-like freckles to invade my nose, I allowed myself to be a little nostalgic and, yes, lazy. I am a hard working chipmunk. I am allowed.

I am certain that there will be plenty superb fall days to wax poetic about, but the last two were so blissfully perfect and calm that I could not let them go without notice.
I watched my fern forest getting rusty, the weeping willow above cry streams of dark green leaves each day, and a posse of fireflies dance the afternoons away in front of my burrow. Birds chirped a different tune, it seamed, and the little bunnies… well, are not that little anymore.
All is signaling changes to take place. It will be sad to see the scenery shed its lush coat and the warm breeze to leave, but isn’t it the nature of live? All is in constant motion, and in true Socratean fashion, we never really do see the same sunset twice… or hear the same cricket concert each night, do we?