In Flagstaff, you can count on distinct seasons.  Sure, we have only had about a handful of substantial snowfall winters in about the past score of years.  But usually it is still fairly cold.  I guess you kind of can’t help it, since the sun is only out and about for so long each day.  Spring doesn’t so much come in each year with warmer temperatures as it does with all the wind.  When the earth starts tilting more quickly on its way toward the solstice, I guess that is its consequence.  But the crocus and daffodil and tulips reappear, along with the crabapple and cherry blossoms.  Even though the last frost is in mid June, we have a decent growing season, if you want it to be; if you plan a little.  First frost averages right around the autumnal equinox.  It used to be that almost without fail, turning the page on the calendar to October really signalled fall.  Now that’s usually a bit later as well.  Global Warming, perhaps.  Or not.  I don’t make the planet spin, nor do I regulate its chemistry in its totality.  I’m just here as an observer; and hopefully an inspiration to some.  As the seasons here in Flagstaff inspire me.  I know it’s a little early for summer to end, but I’m lamenting its end because summer signals the shift in wind patterns which brings in the “Monsoon.”  August is typically the wettest month on average, and we do some years continue to receive rain into September, but since we are at August 19th, our rainy season is quite possibly about to finish.  And then there is usually a little indian summer before fall returns.  But when fall returns, I will be happy for it to arrive, and then sad to see it end.  But that’s life.  I think I appreciate more all that is good during those moments when I am sad, and remember what is important and inspirational.