Labor Day is in the rearview mirror, and for many of us who enjoy four seasons, summer has ended. Oh, sure, she’ll linger for a little while like a damp firecracker that spurts one last courageous spark and then sits there threatening to pop—but she’s spent, and she’s truly unable to produce another bang. Soon she’ll simply whimper and limp away, gray and exhausted, same as last year. She has been worn out by too many rainbows and too many long, warm, peaceful nights full of stars and hopes and dreams. Summer doesn’t fade—she steps into the shadows to catch her breath.