Hard to believe it, but we're less than a week away from autumn. The summer was not, to paraphrase Rilke (as I must), immense.  Let's admit it: summer phoned it in this year.  Instead of days of bliss, there were "seconds of pleasure."  It's hard to get too far out of your head when all you can afford is a staycation. 

And now summer's in its last little gasps.  But don't expect us to get all weepy.  You put in a perfunctory appearance and then want a standing O at the curtain call?  They don't give an Oscar for cameos.  Sorry. 

My garden is winding down nicely, I guess.  This weekend is the Fenway Garden Society's annual "harvest celebration",  Fensfest.  So I'll spend Friday sprucing up a bit in preparation.  But the glory days are past.  Still, summer's twilight has its peculiar beauty, too.  And since it's sure to be a long, dark winter, I'll take it.