It used to be that summer dragged on, a seemingly endless stretch of time. It didn't belong to anything; it was an interregnum between years. As I got older and moved into the working world, summer was a miserable time to be endured. Who wanted to wear suits and "grown up" clothes in all the heat and humidity that is summer in New York?
Fall would announce itself slowly. The first clue was the appearance of Concord grapes at the supermarket. Then, a few weeks later, pomegranates would take the place of plums or nectarines on the grocery shelves.
When I became a school librarian, the summer seemed shorter than I'd remembered but the clues that school, and fall, were here remained the same.
Until today. There, at my local supermarket, were pomegranates and Concord grapes. I couldn't resist, even though it shortens my summer just that little bit more.