The skies have finally cleared after nearly two straight weeks of rain. Although the temperatures are reaching eighty degrees, a vigorous breeze keeps the air dry and refreshing.
Out at the fairgrounds, shaved ice seems like the best of all possible treats -- watermelon flavor for her, cherry for him. Tasting the cherry syrup, the parents are startled by its intensity. Memory has watered down the mouth-filling flavor, but it all comes back in a rush.
Because of the wet weather, leaves have started falling early, even though the chlorophyll has yet to leach out of them. But the ginko on the corner and that one maple a couple of blocks away have begun to turn yellow, emerging from the larger trees around them like the one party-goer who came in fancy dress.
The football team is having its first home game, and the parked cars are inching down the street towards our driveway. Kids in purple jerseys race around their yards, throwing and catching with their dads or brothers while their mothers gather supplies for the walk to the stadium. Soon the crowd's roar will be washing over our house and fading away again, a faint but powerful tide.
It will be another month before the weather is reliably cool and the trees put on their full show. But there's no doubt that the season has officially arrived.