It’s Still Summer

It’s still summer. In the city, everything seems unchanged – grey streets, colorful houses, green trees and parks -, but the colors in the countryside have changed from green to brown and yellow – brown earth, yellow stubble fields full of birds, bales of straw, many of them piled into huge stacks which look like fortifications at dusk. I remember how they fascinated me when I was a child. Helping to pile them up as a teenager made me feel like if I was rebuilding the world.

The sun rises noticably later than in June now, and it sets noticably earlier. Obviously, as the holidays ended the day before yesterday, the sun shines all day long, and temperatures are rising to 30 degrees in the early afternoon. August these days probably looks like September fifty or thirty years ago. Not that I can tell from memory, but mechanization has speeded things up. The first fields were ploughed weeks ago.

But it’s still summer, and it’s a beautiful season.

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