Come in June, she said, when the rising tides are full of fish and the days are long and summer is still a bright prospect on the horizon.

Then June slipped away.

Come in July, she said, when the beaches beckon with ocean water warm enough for swimming and broad, sandy places perfect for a blanket and a book to read.

Then July evaporated in the mist.

Come in August, she said, when the night skies are full of shooting stars and the wind shifts a little to the west, bringing drier air that helps the farmers cure their second cut of hay.

Then August began to disappear and summer was on the wane again — like so many summers before.

Come in September, she said, when the falling tides are full of fish and the days are shortening and the warmth of the sun is something to savor.

And the newest prospect on the horizon is autumn.