I really enjoy these last days of summer weather; final moments of bare legs and free toes before Fall closes in completely. A last chance to appreciate the warmth, its presence punctuated by chill mornings and evenings. As much as I enjoy layers and cozy sweaters there's a claustrophobia to autumn clothes that taxes one; an inability to move freely through layer after layer. Heading out in winter-time can be like armouring yourself against the cold; your coat is a shield and your boots necessary raiment. In contrast, warmer months beg for a vulnerability--an exposure of skin and self. I don't mind the freckles that sprout like weeds on my shoulders or the bug bites that polka dot my limbs; like imperfect Polaroids they mark my activties for all to see. And I love the weightlessness of summer clothes and those endless days of heat and light. Time seems eternal, an afternoon by the water seems to last longer than some days or even weeks of your life. As much as I look forward to red leaves and embrace the need for socks and jackets at the end of days lately--I cling a little to what I'm losing. The weightlessness of summer days or the welcomeness of summer nights when you can linger on porch stoop or empty field enjoying the stars, watching fireflies, or gathering to roast marshmallows with friends, is not easily abandoned...