I'm still reveling in summer imagery, trolling pinterest and tumblr for outfit inspiration and images that recall the sort of feeling of the season. Like, if I could sum it up in pictures, I'd have it all sorted out and I could start looking forward to fall instead of dreading saying goodbye to summer.
Suddenly everyone has got autumn on their breath. The idea of fall is planted; suddenly nights are cooler and the days aren't even that bad now that the heat is golden. But for once in my life I'm digging in my heels and trying my hardest to believe it's still full-fledged summer. How could it be the end of August already? I can't believe a month ago is already a month ago, because wasn't it only just June?
I know I should be preparing for fall with sweaters on the brain, planning the first few outfits for the days when it's cool enough to wear tights, dreaming of apple orchards and leaves and tentatively sipping hot chocolate while wearing corduroy blazers but all I want now is soft serve and hamburgers, high-waisted denim, the burn of chlorine, sweaty necks, and the bliss of green leaves.
But then I've always been pretty sentimental about summer.
Eventually I'll get there, I'm just as much a sucker for a good crunchable leaf turned orange, not to mention cider donuts, as I am for driving with the windows down and eating popsicles. It's only right now that the trade doesn't seem even. Maybe if the last winter didn't seem so long, and if I didn't miss green growing things so much in winter, I'd feel a little less clingy about summer.
There's just still too much to do at this point for summer to be over! And I mean, it isn't really. We're always fooled by September, trickster that it is, into thinking things are going to be crisp and neat, when really it's the one that will turn on you almost more than any other month.