We are past summer solstice, which means the days are imperceptibly getting shorter. For me, summer is always a time of heartache. (I recently had a reflection that I usually experience joy as heartache. Good things make me cry.) I fear summer’s swiftness, its impermanence. The peonies are gone, the pink echinaceas and yellow heliopsis are showing their faces. Adding to this heartache are the songbirds. Today, a robin sitting on the neighbours chimney serenaded me (not me), as I was sitting on the porch, trying to wrap my head around all the things I have to pack. On my evening walk, I saw a turtle come up for air, I saw a kingfisher dove for some small fish, I saw black dragonflies and an orange butterfly. The more time I spend getting to know this place, the less I feel like I want to be somewhere else.