I drove from Charlotte to Roanoke and back last week, and the way the late summer haze weighed on the mountains in the distance made me yearn for fall the way almost-August always does.
If I'm being totally honest, once the fourth of July passes by, I'm pretty much ready for autumn. I start thinking about hot cups of coffee and knitted hats and jeans. There's something so magical about the change in seasons that I start to imagine it well before any of it actually happens.
One chilly morning on the lake. One cool haze hanging in the distance. I think about autumns past, and living on the east coast once again for autumns to come. Will things be the same? Will they feel different? Will I? It's just so hard to know.
There are weeks before we move, and even longer before those first leaves start to change their color back east, so until either one, I will do my best to take in the last of this Minnesota summer. Sometimes it's hard to remember, but there is not much to gain by wishing away the present.