Five Minute Friday – Last

Five Minute Friday I love Fridays.  I love all things Five Minute Friday.  A community where you come as you are and write for 5 minutes.  No over editing, no backtracking, no worrying about what people might think.  Just writing for the sheer joy of it.  You can join us too, over here at Lisa-Jo Baker’s, she’s got a spot just for you! 





Summer has sung its last song.  Trees, their robes of emerald, raise crowns of amber and rubies in exultation of slow, long days and lazy nights. 

In the last hours, sun-warmed days set into cooler evenings, the breath of Fall and all of its comforts, crook a welcome finger to warm mugs, cashmere sweaters and cable knit sweaters. 

Bathing suits, towels and sunscreen will be stored in boxes and closets until once again Winter bends low and gives birth to Spring.  We store up memories and hoard pictures as if this season, this time of year, will never come again.

We linger longer, with flames dancing and crackling over wood, gazing up at a blanket of stars covering the cool night sky.  Marshmallows cooked to perfection are nestled between graham and chocolate, pillows of sweetness oozing over the sides and on to fingers. 

Vases filled with colour and wonder, blossoms pregnant and bending low adorn our tables and hallways.  We cut and arrange stems in hopes of infusing fragrant memories, lest we forget the warmth and colour that is Summer. 

Finger licking goodness from the BBQ, ribs and wings and all manner of char-broiled delicacies, are transformed to crock-pots full of the warmth of soups and stews served with chunks of crusty bread, bathed in butter. 

Peaches ripe with juicy goodness dripping down hands and chins.  Tomatoes, full and red, hang with the weight of expectation off of vines.  Summer’s harvest ready for pies, and jars. 

Car rides with the windows rolled down, air streaming past faces, palms riding the waves of the wind; so this is what flying feels like.  Feet on the dash, tapping in rhythm to the songs that are sung with loud and boisterous abandon.

Summer has sung her last song, her melody raises high as she reminds us that she’ll be singing again when the seasons come ’round again. 


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