Granted, the Fourth of July is a grand holiday, with sparkling fireworks turning the sky into a symphony in flamboyance.
We sprinkle this patriotic holiday with stardust and it glitters like a jewel box awash in moonlight.
Alas, once the Fourth segues into the Fifth, summer seems to vanish quicker than a street corner transaction.
Summer days start bleeding from the calendar and nobody knows how to apply a tourniquet to the hemorrhage.
With autumn and winter now advancing on us like a forest fire fanned by unforgiving winds, I’m fueling up my snow blower and putting ice scrapers back into my two cars.
Don’t blink. It will be Christmas in the twinkle of an eye.