We're clinging to the vestiges of summer around here like grim death. We ignore the tell-tale tips of renegade maple branches who are already flushing with fall color. "Diseased," we improvise when someone them points out. "Sometimes trees do that when they're stressed," Tom told a dubious tourist couple in Bar Harbor. Early fall? No. Definitely not.
And yet... yesterday the pool water was 68 degrees. This morning the air was decidedly crisp. Crap.
The girls and I will continue to wear our tank tops and flip-flops with heads held high, until someone forces us into jeans and fleeces or until we lose feeling in our extremities. Whichever one comes first.