So that was the summer, or rather, those were the summer months.

Needed salt, says I. Not that it lacked for sweat or rain or ambiguity or ambivolence.

Those were the months of the burningtime, and now they are done, every last one. Now it is September Shumaha again, and the Many Months of the Year are reminding me that somewheres it has been September for far more than the sixty-six alotted days-- it has, in fact, been September for almost two years.

Somehow, I don't see Herr Hades and his Fine Persephone complaining, overmuch.

All the same, their Author has climbed, and so must all Towers. Up, up, and Away.

<<agé chose>>

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