Life starts
all over again when it gets crisp in the fall. Fitzgerald wrote that almost a hundred years ago, and I
will be damned if he didn't understand September.
There is something about that first cool
morning. You walk outside and the air has changed with the flick of a switch.
Not winter cold, but the crisp and
refreshing change that nips the staleness of summer. Just enough bite to remind
us that July didn't own the place forever.
The windows open up giving the air
conditioner a deserved break. The sweaters comes out and football is on the
radio. Leaves begin collecting along the curb, and somewhere in the
neighborhood somebody gets the first fireplace going.
You can start over on a
Tuesday morning in September.
All you really need is a
little crisp air...
…and
another piece of chalk.
Chicago
Henge is beginning as the sun leaves the southside and travels towards
Fullerton and Belmont for the next few months.
I am already in, in a daydream….
