September. I love September and its mellow, hallowed sun. I love its peace, its fruitfulness, its completeness, and its smiling willingness to forget itself and yield to autumn. This year there are no plums on my tree and few apples but it isn’t worried. There are seeds aplenty storing the bowels of this summer for the future. It is still green, a lazy mantle of life covering the land, filling and filled by the air. There are still roses, there is still warmth, there is always welcome.