It’s nearing the end of summer. That right there, folks, is blatant denial written down on a page for the whole world to see. Summer is over, at least in these parts where summer is not dictated as much by solstices and equinox calendars but by the buzz of the land. Goldenrod has claimed its territory amongst the dried grasses. Sage is its companion to watch the waning sun and the tightening of dawn and gloaming…
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