|Strawberries are still growing even though the shadows are getting longer.|
Sure, there are a few signs that Summer is on its way out. For one, my girls have put out the fall decorations.
And no matter how hot the weather, the path of the sun through the sky tells the truth. I do notice the dark in the morning now and I notice it even more so in the evening and I find myself remarking that "it's so dark already." I am 37 years old and I still haven't grown accustomed to the way we lose and gain daylight. I doubt I ever will. I hope I never will.
And maybe because the sun goes down earlier it does get a little colder at night than it used to. I have cut back the time on the sprinklers to compensate so I guess, in that way, I have admitted to my garden that the fall is near even if I haven't fully admitted it to myself.
|The roses don't seem to know that it's autumn either.|
Transitions are always hard and while there is something I love about every new season I can't seem to escape the feeling that the start of Autumn means the loss of something wonderful. Ingrained deep within me, impressed upon the very DNA of my being, is the sense that summer is when we come alive. Summer is when we grow. Summer is when the best things that happen to us happen. So even if Autumn is great, even if there's nothing as nostalgic as apple cider, even if you sigh fondly at the sight of high school football stadium lights on a Friday night, Autumn still means that something wonderful is gone. And you can't get it back.
So maybe it is the temperature here or maybe it is my own unwillingness to acknowledge the meaning of it all, but right now, where I am physically and mentally, it is still summer. At least for a little while longer.