I’ve stated before that the month of August is like one long Sunday. The closer we get to Labor Day the more this holds true. I feel like each day is an hour and the light and air are already changing. The arrival of Hurricane Irene on the East Coast this weekend has ushered in cooler winds and I can’t help but think of bright blue September skies and the golden light of fall.
The end of a season always feels like something ominous is lurking just around the next corner. The skeptical New Englander in me comes forward and doesn’t like what might be new and different just around the bend. The unexpected new elements of a season (*shakes fist at climate change*) do not put me at ease. I get comfortable in the present season and my fight to keep winter and its colder temperatures at arms length begins.
I try not to cram too much into this last week. I try to gaze a little longer at the morning light. To stand on my front step a few minutes more each evening embracing the twilight and the summer evenings warmth. Too soon the leaves will be off the trees and blowing down my path. Too soon we will be boarding a big yellow bus and carrying away just a bit more of our youth.
