This season: the end of July and the beginning of August. If I die some day, I want to die in the end of July.

I remember a sentence that I wrote more than 40 years ago; hell, it may well have been as early as in 1970. I lived then in very different circumstances than now, quite far from my present home, and I learned to love nature.

"Villin kauniin päivän jälkeen illan tulisuus ja raukeus lepäsi taivaalla ja maassa."

Why do I remember just that sentence, while I may have forgotten dozens and dozens of other sentences of mine? I don't know. Maybe because this is my favorite season. A free translation: "After a wildly beautiful day, the evening's fieriness and languor rested on the sky and upon the earth."

Maybe it sounds better in the original language—I have no idea. A few days ago I happened to remember it and said it to a friend of mine, and he stated, "Well said."

"This season" or this weather does not occur every year—sometimes it is cloudy or rainy.

And where are the little girls in that sentence? You just imagine them.