We are hanging onto the final days of summer. Wringing them of every sunny drop. Our balcony table is topped with this vivid Mexican oilcloth and on this particular afternoon, it hosted an optimistic intermission.
Hemingway’s classic has been a constant feature on my bookshelves. I’ve had many copies of this book. Some I’ve given away. At least a couple were lent and never returned. How ever we have parted a copy has always replaced it even though, it’s been nearly a decade since I last read the fable entirely.