Fall officially arrives later this week, but I’m not quite finished with summer yet. Apparently, at least one other living thing isn’t either!

The brown paper bag of pecans I gathered from a riverbank sat ignored on a shelf for months until, admitting to myself I’d never shell them, I gave them to the squirrels.

In the pecan tree planted by one of those squirrels ten years ago, an energetic twig sporting late summer leaves sways back and forth in the canopy.

Other twigs sway, but this one is different. Not the highest but surely the most extroverted, it moves in double time, jitterbugging while its siblings waltz.

Dancing to its own music, it brings to mind a happy child hopping back-and-forth from foot to foot in her excitement.

Common sense tells me some complex algorithm of altitude and leaf placement and wind direction and velocity causes this particular twig to shimmy so enthusiastically in the breeze.

But I remember the bag of pecans and how I scattered them, and I believe the twig, so grateful to be alive on this late summer day, is waving to me and shouting, “Hey, you! Yeah, you with the silly grin–thanks for feeding those squirrels!”