The days have been cooler. Everyone that is anyone is out. Laughter is in the air. ‘The living is easy and the cotton is fine.’ The path to the creek is well-trod. A cane fishing pole is stuck into the ground with a line attached and a bobber in the water. Ebullient kids are taking turns diving into the water from the big rocks. The sound of a lone violinist is in the distance.

Worry has blown away on the soft breezes. Something needs attention but can not be remembered while floating on the cool waters. The grandkids play around grandpas’ feet. Their giggles are like gossamer. Time for a campfire there is a feeling of fall in the air. Hot chocolate tastes good. The fire crackles and sings. There are dancing clowns and minstrels piping songs on their flutes. Dreams of future things and loves won and lost.

The children say not yet but we are ready. School will begin soon. It will be time to bob for apples and drink cider. Ghosts and goblins will be their companions. Tales of Ichabod Crane the headless horseman. Frankenstein and Dracula will walk hand in hand as they enter the Funhouse. The days will be shorter and the darkness long.

Grandpa misses his grandchildren. They are back in school. It is time for a final glass of the Summer Wine…