As summer wanes and autumn falls it reminds me of the line in Simon and Garfunkel's song, "Bridge Over Troubled Waters" which says:
When you're down and out,
When you're on the street,
When evening falls so hard,
I will comfort you.
Except I'm thinking autumn falling instead of evening.
The flowers on the Butterfly Bush have begun to dry up and fall off, and even the poor old butterfly, so beautiful all summer, has begun to show the signs of his age. His wings are tattered and torn, or even missing, but still he searches on for that sweet nectar that will get him through yet one more day. And I can sympathize with him a little. At what point do I reach the autumn of my life? I have probably passed the 3/4 mark, and my chin has begun to sag embarrasingly in photos of myself (until I get them into photoshop), but I do still have all my limbs, and I do still want to get up every morning to see what's coming today.
Enough for the melancholy, how 'bout them Georgia Tech Yellow Jackets?
Pont-Croix, Brittany XII
1 hour ago