The other day one of my favorite fellow bloggers, Lindsey at A Design So Vast, wrote a lovely end-of-summer post. Reading her elegiac reflections made me realize that I wasn’t quite there yet myself; I’m having some trouble acknowledging this change of season, acquiescing to yet another ending. You can see it in my half-there-half-here outfit this morning: as I type these words I’m wearing flip flops and a wool sweater, trying to have it both ways. I keep looking at my bathing suit, tossed on the edge of the bath tub: if I don’t put it away, maybe I’ll take one more swim in the pond before the water gets too cold. I was tempted by rust-colored chrysanthemums in pots at the farmer’s market on Wednesday, but here at home my pink petunias and impatiens are still blooming, alongside the fading hydrangeas and spent sunflowers; I keep watering, deadheading, prolonging. There are local peaches in my refrigerator, a row of Brandywines on the window sill, the season’s first Paula Reds in a bowl: summer and fall all mixed together, gloriously abundant. I savor every bite. Yesterday I sat outside in the sunshine and ate tomatoes from my neighbor’s garden for lunch; by evening, we’d cranked the windows all shut and were glad to have hot corn chowder for dinner. One son left for school on Tuesday, but one is still sound asleep upstairs on this weekday morning. As long as it’s still summer vacation for him, I can pretend it’s summer for me, too.
And yet. If I have learned anything at all these last couple of months, it is that I am still learning how to let go, still caught so often between my wish to stop time in its tracks and my longing to accept with more grace the transience of all things. In New Hampshire, summer’s end always catches me off-guard, so swiftly do the lush ferns along the stone walls crumple into brittle brown tangles, so suddenly do the evenings turn from balmy to brisk. Next week, Jack, too, will be back in school, and my bathing suit will surely be back in the drawer. My own days will feel different then: shorter, busier, and — I have to admit this — lonelier. It’s still cool now, the temperature hovering right around 60; just too cold for that swim I’ve been so determined to have. Jack has promised to take a hike with me, though. I’m going to make him some pancakes, help him pack up his stuff, give him the car later to go visit a friend, settle in with Steve tonight to watch the semifinals of the U.S. Open. And then tomorrow, I promise, I’m going to release my grip and let summer go. It’s been good. It’s over. It’s okay.
"I am still learning how to let go, still caught so often between my wish to stop time in its tracks and my longing to accept with more grace the transience of all things" – the most beautiful evocation of the central tension of my life that I've read yet. And I'm watching you carefully, gleaning such inspiration and wisdom from your graceful journey. Thank you, thank you, thank you. xox
Isn't it so true that the longer we live, the more we understand the 'transience of all things'? Not that we accept them more gracefully, we just become more aware of their inevitability. Hugs to you, as you send Jack off to school. You and Steve have raised two strong young men. Rest in the contentment that you've done a good job, if they can rush out into the world with such confidence.
Happy new season, my friend.
Judy
justonefoot.blogspot.com
In LA summer ends the way paint dries—slowly, subtly, but it ends just the same… eventually. I can swim for another month at least, but last night the peaches were a sad attempt to keep summer going while the apples were a sad attempt to hark the hesitant fall. Betwixt and between, kids already battling their first colds of the stress-charged school year.
Out here summer manages to leave the stage like Judy Garland with encores to spare, but fall never really comes, leaves never really catch sunlit fire and pumpkins are picked under sweltering skies.
Since you're letting summer go, I'll look forward to notes from a real fall. Namaste
Your post was timed perfectly to match my feelings about saying goodbye to summer. Yesterday was our town's Community Day, and as I watched the fireworks and realized that the pool was closing for the final time this year, I wondered where the time had gone since we watched the July 4th fireworks.
As I get older, I am finding that I don't really mind saying goodbye as much, because a new season returns like a familiar friend waiting to be rediscovered. So I am preparing to embrace the cooler temperatures, the heavier clothes, heartier meals, and the preparations for the holidays. And with the holidays comes a homecoming for the college kids, whose goodbyes will always tear at my heart. But as the seasons mark their comings and goings, I, too, realize that it is ok, and I am grateful to witness the changes. Happy fall, Katrina!
amen.
I like summer just fine… and I love Fall, but this in-between part– since I am seriously allergy-ridden at this time, it is my least favorite. I need that first freeze — need it desperately — so I can BREATHE again. I want to slow down and enjoy it and I've been making an effort, taking time out … but it would be better if I weren't sneezing, if my nights were not plagued by drainage. And the forecast is for BEAUTIFUL weather, that I am currently resenting… and yet, as I run the errands and drag myself (and the kids) back and forth to school drop offs, I'm noticing flashes and hints of gold in trees, the scattering of leaves in my yard from a neighbor's tree.
Your post (and Lindsey's) was lovely and I'm glad to have read it, I only sneezed 4 times while responding, so that's something? Right?