The end of summer always depresses me.

Not in a dramatic, lock the doors and play sad music kind of way, although I’m not ruling that out. It is simply difficult to lose the warmth, the light and that wonderful sense that every morning arrives carrying possibilities.

You wake up hoping for a sunny day and imagining long, lazy stretches of time outdoors, a morning swim, a walk to work, lunch at a sidewalk café or an impromptu picnic.

The sun hangs around until almost nine o’clock, and your skin develops a healthy glow achieved, naturally, beneath several responsible layers of sunscreen because we are no longer young enough to regard sun damage as tomorrow’s problem.

Fall is beautiful. I know that.

It brings crisp air, changing leaves, football, the World Series and the first whispers of the holidays. Soon, everyone will be discussing pumpkin spice with the gravity normally reserved for interest rates and international diplomacy.

Summer feels different.

Summer spells productivity and promise. The longer days make it seem as though there is still time to accomplish everything…to work, swim, walk, socialize, reorganize your life.

This week has been glorious on the East Coast: warm sunshine, bright skies and just enough breeze to make you believe summer has reconsidered leaving.

Sadly, the hydrangeas are fading, their once-vibrant colors softening at the edges, and there is a coolness in the air that wasn’t there a few weeks ago.

Fall is waiting politely in the driveway. It already has the engine running.

Enjoy summer for as long as you can. Eat outside. Take the walk. Go for the swim. Sit in the sun wearing sunscreen, obviously, and let the evening linger.

Winter will find us soon enough. It always knows where we live.