Seasons should be savored, each for its unique qualities: the tender green of new life that leads to summer’s sun-kissed abundance, harvesttime and then the holidays and cozy winter nights. Everyone has a personal favorite. Mine is fall. Even so, I don’t want to rush ahead and overlook what is special about the end of summer.

Apples wait to be picked, and berries are still on the vine. Peaches are rich with end-of-season flavor, the kind that runs down your chin and oozes from a warm pie.

Today, gray skies make me think of soup and a good book. Unusual rainfall and humidity from the remnants of a tropical storm are to blame. Still, rain is always welcome when the ground is sun-baked, and plants are striving for one last spurt of growth. The heat wave persists, however, pulling me back from thoughts of soup. It is not fall!

Why must we hurry? Can’t we sip iced tea, relishing the warm evenings and orange sunsets? Can’t we be satisfied with honeysuckle mornings and berry pie? Can’t we be content with the moment instead of striving to create some Hallmark future?

Why can’t we enjoy each season during its normal timespan?

“Because the retailers have to stay ahead of the curve, and they want to pull us along with them,” said my husband.

He’s right, of course.

It is difficult to admit, but we are all slaves to the retail calendar. When Thanksgiving cards pop up at the drugstore, we panic and rush to buy Christmas presents and wrapping paper. When Starbucks rolls out its Pumpkin Spice Everything, we dutifully believe fall has arrived, even if the calendar says it is August.

There is still time to go to the beach, for heaven’s sake.

And yet, mounds of pumpkins are just outside the grocery store, and Christmas is at Costco. I have noticed that the days seem a little shorter. A warm breeze is pushes red leaves across the pavement, and acorns litter the ground.

It is not fall! But almost . . .