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Summer’s end

Summer is over. In mid-August, we went away for a week, and when we returned we had sunny days but they were cooler and the light was changing. I like it when the light changes  and the air feels different, but the changing of the season—any season—is bittersweet to me.

The humans in the family went to London, where we drank cider and ale; ate fish and chips,  hamburgers, and chicken-and-leek pie; and walked a lot. We saw a Welsh terrier at the Portobello Road antiques market, where we added a fox terrier with an interesting facial expression to our dog collection, and I caught the briefest glimpse of an Airedale from the bus on our way back from the Freud Museum.

When we went to London, Rusty went to Roma, where he had an excellent time. (A rough—very rough—translation of Roma’s site is here.) But when the week was over, we were all glad to be  back home together.

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