Please, don't post photos of rowan berries

"Please don't post any photos of rowan berries on your instagram account," my sister tells me before I leave the countryside, "Not yet. It's way too early for that." 

"I won't," I promise. The latest pictures on the camera roll are of dahlias in mom's garden. And of the sea. I always have pictures of the sea on my camera roll when I am at the countryside. 

It feels unnaturally early for the rowan berries to be orange. They remind of fall and school. My nephew will start second grade this fall. My sis has some freedom to work from the summer home or commute to the office, but once the school starts...My sister does not want to think of school at all, of the return to a small flat, to the city. 

I get her. It's hard to let go of the freedom and slow of the countryside, the spacious garden and vegetable patch, the daily swimming and the fresh tomatoes, the quiet and the dahlias. 

I had thought of the arrival of the fall one day when I looked out of my living room window and the rowan berries in the greyness of the day triggered some melancholy. It inspired a poemish piece. 

August paints the rowan berries,

making the proud orange stand out, 

almost screaming, “The fall is here, 

pack your flip-flops, find your jackets,

go back to school, work hard.

For each berry on my branch 

adds an item to your to-do list.”

Please, sunshine, don’t let us be ruled,

don’t surrender to this nonsense. 

Let’s still sing summer!

Swimming, swirling, free and joyous, 

walking barefoot on the grass, 

swinging in a floral-patterned dress,

the inner child laughing. 

“You fool! You silly butterfly!” the crows croak,

“Stop pretending, grow up, 

accept, let go. You must. 

Tick-tock, the time passes, the days darken.

There is no escape. 

The winds will blow away 

your umbrella in the rainstorm.”

“Don’t cry,” the heart hugs me,

“We’ll carry the summer light with us,

drinking rhubarb lemonade in November.”

I won't post a picture of rowan berries. May the dahlia celebrate the continuing of August.