I mean the summer and all that implies. I live in Montréal and people know what it means when this season is over. There will be darker and shorter days; there will be less skin exposed to the elements; there will be fewer festivals that everyone will want to take part in; and there will be cold. Almost hard to believe today. We are in the middle of what I think will be our last heat wave and I am typing this in shorts, sandals and a golf shirt at the library, surrounded by others just as dressed down as myself. We are all waiting for it.
It is not all bad. I have my teaching contracts up and running now. I have also written the rough draft of a play that I am going to put into shape and try to put on. There are other stories, poems and articles that I would also like to get done, preferably at home with a new laptop (looking forward to that first pay cheque from all this teaching). There is a last street festival on what we call The Main, a film festival with free showings at an outdoor screen (saw "The Shining" on Friday, surrounded by les Montréalais), and I can still head out to open markets to buy vegetables and fruit for the week.
But I know what's coming...
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Yeah, I can take it...