Will fall ever come?

A lot of people look forward to the fall season. The air grows crisp, the leaves change to glorious colors, there is hot apple cider to drink, the kids go back to school, you don't have to water your flowers anymore...

Yes, I like fall because I don't have to tend my garden anymore. I can let things die without feeling guilty.

But of course that is not what is happening. My flowers, which stubbornly refused to show much color all summer, are now brighter than ever, happily cohabitating with the falling leaves. I bought a couple of pumpkins and pointedly put them near the garden, hoping the flowers would get the point that it's their time to exit the stage now. But still they bloom.

On one of my daily neighboring strolls I sideswiped a butterfly bush. It was hard to avoid, as it was growing over the sidewalk and into the parking area. In the deepening darkness I walked smack into a butterfly perched on the edge of a white flower.

"Aaagh!" I yelled, startled.

"Aaagh!" the butterfly yelled back.

We stared at each other.

"Sorry," I stammered. "I didn't see you."

It fluttered its wings. "This is a butterfly bush," it said somewhat contemptuously. "I'm a butterfly. You might have expected I would be here."

"Well, aren't you supposed to be somewhere else this time of year, like Mexico or something? Shouldn't you be packing, leaving a forwarding address, that sort of thing? Why are you still here?"

"There's still plenty of things for me to feast on here," it said. "I'm not leaving til the buffet closes for the season."

I sighed. "I suppose I have you partly to thank that my flowers are still blooming," I said, gesturing to our yard a few houses away.

"Ah, yes, those straw flowers and gerberas make for a lovely afternoon treat," it said contentedly. "You're quite welcome for my help."

"I was being sarcastic," I said. "I am not thankful that my plants are still blooming. Things are supposed to be dying now. Could you tell the rest of your cronies that? And the bees, while you're at it? Just let things take their natural course. Like you should be doing, to Panama or wherever you go."

"Please," it said, slowly opening and closing its wings. "Panama is so crowded these days. The commoners have completely overrun it. I'm heading to Bermuda."

"Well, good luck with that," I said. "And please tell your offspring to get an early start next year. I don't want to wait til fall to get some color in my yard."