There is something certain about the change of seasons. This morning I woke up on the shore of Lake Conesus in Livonia where Kathryn and Pat have rented a house for the holiday weekend. Sitting down for my morning coffee, I was greet by the gentle lapping of the lake and the silent fluttering of leaves from the mimosa tree above; tiny leaf flakes drifting down to the water. It’s September 1st.
Yesterday we celebrated Dad’s 100th birthday. “One year older,” he said. We saw him at lunch time and again at dinner. During the afternoon a group of us including his nephew and his family who have come to Rochester from Beijing took a tour of the Erie Canal. Felicity loved the lock and listened attentively to the maneuvering of the boat into the lock applauding as the gate closed behind us.
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