September

I've been waiting for today.  Just to say, "It is September" is a relief.  Though we would be fooling ourselves to say it is fall now, it is fall enough for now.  After all, it is September.

September is poetry and it is soup in crockery bowls; it is dog-eared novels we've read so many times the edges of the pages are thick and it is homemade bread.  September is a bouquet of bliss and blessings, a bundle of bright hopes tied with the ribbons of sentimentality.  September is being in the moment, standing in the sun and breathing in deep.  It is sneaking in a tiny thought of the holidays that are coming and then hurrying back to today before you're lost in tomorrow.

September is a time for love and romance.  If you haven't anyone to woo in your life, then by all means, let September woo you!  Give in to it.  It feels great.  There's no guilt in the guilty pleasures of September.  Set the table with real dishes, lay a cloth napkin in your lap, light a candle on your table and invite Cyrus Chestnut, Vince Guaraldi, Michael Franks, or even Garrison Keillor to dine with you.  I can promise you will feel warmed on the inside for having been in their company.  There's simply no excuse for not being in love in September.