Blueberries are ripe, raspberries are almost done, and any strawberries that I find in the patch seem like miracles. The basil is tall, some of it is going to seed. The carrots must be growing underground, I believe this because the tops are taller by the day, and bushier. The peas, well they have finished for the year. Tomatoes are ripe, especially the cherry tomatoes. But it's the zinnias that are in full bloom, in fact it seems they are in competition with the cosmos as to who can produce more blooms in the daunting heat. It's been plus 30 Celsius for over a month. Gardening reminds me that in life there is a time for things. One cannot harvest blueberries or strawberries or even the ever insurgent raspberry in the winter. Basil dies with the first frost and flowers rarely withstand the cold. Gardening shows me that life is played out in a continuum. So here is what I love about writing. I know, you were wondering when I would get to something bookish. Writing– at least I hope– let's us revisit the winter, relive the spring, glory in the summer and harvest once, twice or maybe three times the abundance of fall. And it let's us do this again and again and again. I am so grateful for that possibility.