Fleeting Time

No, really, it is in all innocence
that I pose the question: What 
happened? Bear me out as I
explain. It was, after all, only
yesterday that all the winter
clothing was put away, the furnace
turned off, summer garb brought 
out, the garden planted, a vacation 
away scheduled and prospects 
for a carefree summer seemed
inevitable. We would immerse
ourselves in the freedom of kind
weather and indulge in all the
many pleasures that summer
promises to deliver. Yes, I most
distinctly recall complaining
about the heat and humidity
the excess rain that delighted
the garden and deluged us
relentlessly. I recall not minding
it so very much and relaxing in
the comfort of a benign summer.
Was it those complaints that
spurred nature to unceremoniously
usher in the cold and the wind to
deprive us of spontaneity? I do
feel a sense of remorse as though
I am responsible somehow for
taking it all for granted, and now
must deal with the consequences.
Still, my consternation is real, not
imagined and I cannot understand
why I assumed summer to have
arrived and given us pleasure now
that I am hauling out cold-weather
clothing, putting the garden to sleep
and preparing to shovel snow.