This weekend I’m returning to Boston to attend a performance of ‘Wicked’ with my friend JoAnn. It’s her first time seeing the show, which is always a special occasion, and it’s a welcome diversion from all things upstate New York. September is one of my favorite times to be in Boston. Fall is one of those seasons that has a better beginning than ending, and while I usually like to wait for such rewards, I’ll take this one now.
The farmer’s markets begin to spill their gourds and squash from baskets, the flowers go from the fresh shades of spring bulbs to the autumnal hues of sunflowers and zinnias, and the scent of dying, drying leaves, warmed in the sun, rises from the ground. It is the beginning of the end, but it goes out in a blaze of glory.
