It’s just a week now until my mom leaves us to go back home, and just less than a week after that until the kids start school. I guess that means that summer is winding down, something the chill in the air would have told me even if the calendar hadn’t. I hear it’s supposed to warm up again, and I’m keeping my hopes up, but even in the best of all possible worlds the days left ’til winter are limited.
It’s hard for me to believe sometimes that I can sit here barely into the second week of August and lament the end of summer. Back where I’m from, August is the hottest month of the year and you can nearly always count on summer lasting through September, at least. A good Indian summer might last you almost to November, but even when winter comes earlier, the tulips start blooming in February or March — there’s no talk there of “the winter half of the year,” like there is here.
Still, even knowing that winter is on the other side of it, I always look forward to the fall, especially toward the end of a nice, warm summer like this one has been. I like the crisp feel of the air and the crunch of leaves underfoot and the whole back-to-school bit. I just might like it a little bit better if it could hold off another month of so.
I love how you write.:)
You know, yesterday I was going to comment on how beautifully you write. I agree 100 percent with Debra. You can capture in words feelings that we all share. There is something so “wistful” and memory-laden about the end of summer, if you know what I mean (I just can’t put it as well as you do). I remember sitting with my mom many years ago, enjoying the sun on a lazy, late summer afternoon, listening to the cicadas buzzing. We talked about the “dog days of summer”…she is gone now, but it was a wonderful memory evoked by your beautiful writing.