It happens every year.

One morning each spring, early, just as the sun has broken above the rooftops and is blazing through the windows and doors of the back of the house, you see it.  You walk in to the dancing shadows of the freshly, fully-leafed Aspens, which have turned the kitchen into a happy stage of gentle movement playing tag with light.  You hold out your hand so the show can alight and tickle your fancy for just a moment and then let it run unabashedly around the room.

Oh, hello, summer shade!  You have returned – you’re back!  So great to see you.  I have missed you so much.

Every year, without fail,  I once again forgive the deciduous for breaking my heart and leaving me in the autumn.  I am like that.