The last day of summer brought with it a warm sun and I took advantage of its farewell party vagabonding the afternoon away in Little Italy. The local Starbuck’s was taken over by more motorcycles than its likely ever seen, due in part to the recent papering of its rival’s windows across the way.
All conversation ceased with every roar of a Harley. And this mixing of cultures of sorts, made for a Bizzaro-like atmosphere, the money-makers moving indoors, the patio chairs trimmed with leather jackets. I felt a little responsible for my blue-collared friends who walked the café grounds looking lost, so I gladly stayed in the sun (where I belong) and became host to the 'South-street-erners' while waving at the suits on their way in.
It’s a good thing that Michael Angelo didn’t show up today. He would have likely wasted too much energy trying to entertain around the noises. What isn't good, is that the magician will no longer be gracing my neighbourhood in the summertime. He has whispered his Blain-ish plans my way, and though I am happy for him, I am very sad for me. I will miss the man who believes in magic.
The Haberdashery, who`s owner I`ve been helping out since the Spring, is moving also, to a larger location in the Exchange District. And despite my love of chapeaux, it is Luke and our near-daily chats that I will miss.
The neighbour`s bald spots (see 09Jun08) have miraculously filled green under the big old pine, after years of seeing no sun. The gardener has done well indeed!
And my avenue is sprinkled now with summer items that speak volumes about this gregarious neighbourhood I call home: one high-heeled shoe, one shirt, several bicycle parts, bottles, coins, and a parking sign, to name a few.
The weather this past summer has also spoken volumes, though certainly not in support of any green-house theory. I did a little dance last week to the welcome sound of my old rads clanking about late one night. Off came a layer of clothing as I prepared myself to say farewell to summer once again.
Another summer on the prairies has come and gone, again too quickly . . . much, much too quickly for this prairie girl.
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