We come to the twilight of the year. Will we mourn the sun, or turn our chins up to the skylights? Will we lament leaves and lilies, or ascend the bare hills? In short: will we be humans, or will we be cats?
There must be some hidden hoard of helium in the walls of Tabby’s Place. How else to explain the ups and downs of August, our hearts bobbing like airships?
Did you eat local at every farm market? Did you “fweeeee!” around every Ferris wheel? Did you summer your summer to the summaximum?
Farmers have their markets. Carnies have their carousels. And we, we have our kittens by the quintillions.
There are songs about winter, spring and fall. But there are songs about summer. And that’s no coincidence.
June is arguably the best of months. It has the Strawberry Moon. It has the promise that you will always be a bride. It has Wonder Woman.*