I do wonder why this used to be called an "Indian Summer"? Whatever we call it, I do love it but hate that it means it's The End of Summer. The last gasp. Then the death of winter. Yes, until the rebirth in spring, but how many springs am I still going to see? I don't know. Maybe the next one. I never expected to see this winter.
Our Lindsey has been around some. Sometimes it can feel like Old Times. Funny there can be that timelessness with her like with her mother. And when the three of us experience it together it can be priceless. Like what my brothers and I had. Priceless.
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