The outgoing summer

Every year in late summer I get a slight feeling of sadness. Summer is leaving, ahead of the autumn with its threads of rains, wet season. And then the first snow. And winter already on the doorstep. Always a bit sad to come to the country to close the summer season. The trees are lightly gilded, and the first leaves fall to the cooling earth. They will soon cover her pretty, rustling carpet. This time we arrived a little early. Asters still bloom in full force, delighting the eye. Wife got a beautiful bouquet and put it on the bench. It was impossible to pass by such beauty. The name, probably the first born before the painting. ”The passing summer”, and that's it. The story emerged instantly. Hands immediately reached for the brush. I think I managed the painting to convey a state of mind. I want to throw on the shoulders of a warm blanket, pour a hot tea with a slice of lemon and enjoy the last warm days of summer.