on the cusp

i love nikki mcclure's artwork and find it relaxing to peruse the pages of *"collect raindrops: the seasons gathered" as we find ourselves on the cusp between summer and winter.  

"...we try to hold on to the last days of bare arms and legs. early caches of sunflower seeds stored by eager squirrels sprout a leggy forest hoping for just a little bit more. just a wee bit more. don't go. we only have sixty-four? eighty-seven? ninety-four summers if we are lucky. we hold on and take the last quick swim just to say that we did...last chance, last peach. last watermelon seed to spit. there is a quickness to everything now. first slippers, first sweater, first blankets wrapped around while reading. stop one hustle and start another kind of dance. scurry from tree to tree. fill your pockets, shirttails, wheelbarrow. ride around the block smelling for fallen fruit. night comes too early. houses glow with industry as all the food is inspected and stored away in mouths, in boxes, in baskets overflowing. wipe your feet. come inside..."

*and i may just offer a reward to the person who finds the two pages that are missing from this library book! i know it's a compliment to the artist in one way, but in another, it's not: buy her prints! especially since each paper takes her hours and hours to cut. i will confess to many things with library books (accidental coffee rings, occasional pencil corrections and some dog-earing) but blatantly tearing pages out is not one of them. ok, end of rant. on a more peacefully autumnal note, i'm excited to go to hood river tomorrow and get a bevy of apples to share!