The world outside my window this morning seems to have been robbed of another day of a very elusive summer. So elusive, in fact, that I have hardly seen it around here. The sky had started out as a blue palate and now is flooded with white, puffy clouds. A light breeze ruffles the green-yellow leaves of the tree that has parked itself outside my window, in a backyard that has been roughly weeded. For all intents and purposes, the flowers and leaves indicate that spring had come, yet summer is still on its way.
The large, flower-filled tree is the most active around here – bees buzzing and fluttering all day collecting their precious load of pollen, which leaves Mr. Taylor with frightful allergies. I can hear the birds chirping, hoping with all their might that the sun would come out to play, and the world, at least my world, in a Small City, not too far away from The City (San Francisco), would once again be awash in its warm rays of light. They usually tend to rejuvenate me and I come alive as the sun appears more consistently in the heavenly blue skies. Summer is my favorite time of the year.
