August 26, 2009

I stepped outside on a fresh, foggy morning last week and felt that undeniable hint of fall weather, though I'm hard put to identify just what the markers are. Nevertheless, it's coming. This is the inevitable truth that haunts every summer's day, every balmy, open windowed night of crickets and cicadas, every full flowered garden: Fall is coming. While, in early summer, I can chase the threat away, that's harder to do at the end of August.

Last winter I just about perished from the sad-and-fat syndrome, and I dread the onset of those short, dark, cold days when the shroud of it hovers before dropping again.

The disabling characteristics came in a group: inability to create, inability to move, inability to shake the overarching sadness, inability to eat sensibly. One subsists on a diet of television and chocolate. I'm going to apply every bit of imagination I can muster to fend off the blahs, but the prospect of the campaign make me tired at the outset.

Actually, so far, so good. But tomorrow waits in the wings.....

PW