As August achieves accomplishment, autumn attends Aitkin apace.

Beautifully, bright, bold bracts begin blowing abroad, before bitter, brisk boreal blasts bring bleak blizzards.

The cold, clearly, consistently, comes crawling soon. It’s simply the cycle.

Dutifully, dashfully, do what can be done outdoors ere dark days do descend and drive many to their delightful dwellings.

Everyone, evidently, emits excitement amid the end of the expeditious epoch of early auroras and un-early evenings.

Fatefully, my friends, we will fast be familiar with the frigid, freezing funk of flurries following fading flowers.

Gone will be golf, go-karts and goofing around in the lagoons.



Joyously, June and July will jump back, jointly with june bugs, jolly juveniles and jumping rope...

Killing time, kranking jams, kooling off…

Like a light switch, lovers will love the luscious leaves of lively wildlife.

Many will marinate in the mild, mellow marinade of summer.


Oh, of course, others may omit open outdoors from an often open occupation.

Perhaps the proper place for some people is placed in their perfect, pristine pads, apart from the public.

Reasonable, really.

As some say, sometimes society should slight someone’s desires, instead of snooping and sticking noses in others’ selection.



Vast variety survives in the voluminous venue of viewpoints to vocalize.

Why waste wonderful words and whiles worrying over wee worriments worthless to yourself?



Time for a ‘za and a zonk.

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