In St. Louis, late summer is menopausal. Temperatures drop to sunny California 70s before ricocheting back to the high 90s. One minute Mother Nature turns the thermostat down to 68, the next she’s stripping down to skivvies in a suburban bedroom. Tuesday I’m cannonballing into a blue backyard swimming pool, Wednesday I’m running through the first wisps of fall leaves. Living with a golden age Gaia isn’t easy; I want autumn in full force, not just the barest teases of calm. Continue reading
