Summer's back would appear to be pretty much broken. While there might be an 80 degree day hiding around the corner, autumn has arrived. The edges of the day are cool and require a sweater, and the mornings arrive later and later, while the nights sneak up on me earlier and earlier. I'm not a beach bunny and never have been, so it's not as though I'll miss "summer fun". The closest I get to a tan is when my freckles all come out at the same time. But this time of year always makes me wistful. The ghosts of first days of school, my own and my sons', come back to haunt me, and I have an uncontrollable urge to go out and buy new notebooks and pencils in spite of the fact that we could supply a small country with what we already have in the desk. Reason plays no part in this.
There is something poignant about autumn. The trees are tired of being green and are getting ready to put on their big show before November strips them bare. And to tell the truth, I think I'm tired of them, too. I'm ready for something different. Still, I am not altogether happy about the fact that the boys have another summer under their belts, that my mother is that much frailer, that my hair is that much grayer (or "silver" as my younger son, the diplomat calls it) or that so many of my friends have joined what I euphemistically call "the advance team". I'm missing people and times gone by. For some reason many of my friends have decided to take their leave of The Big Blue Marble during the month of September. Then there's 9/11 to think about. All in all, it's becoming one of my least favorite months.
I'm listening to Thomas Moore's "Dark Night of the Soul" in the car these days. There are some interesting observations about the positive aspects of dwelling on "the dark side" and most of them involve personal growth, which I believe happens far more often during times of sorrow than joy. I don't want to become a permanent citizen here, though. I'm already planning my escape from the doldrums. I think I'll start by planting a sea of daffodils for the spring. But first I'm buying myself a new notebook.
There is something poignant about autumn. The trees are tired of being green and are getting ready to put on their big show before November strips them bare. And to tell the truth, I think I'm tired of them, too. I'm ready for something different. Still, I am not altogether happy about the fact that the boys have another summer under their belts, that my mother is that much frailer, that my hair is that much grayer (or "silver" as my younger son, the diplomat calls it) or that so many of my friends have joined what I euphemistically call "the advance team". I'm missing people and times gone by. For some reason many of my friends have decided to take their leave of The Big Blue Marble during the month of September. Then there's 9/11 to think about. All in all, it's becoming one of my least favorite months.
I'm listening to Thomas Moore's "Dark Night of the Soul" in the car these days. There are some interesting observations about the positive aspects of dwelling on "the dark side" and most of them involve personal growth, which I believe happens far more often during times of sorrow than joy. I don't want to become a permanent citizen here, though. I'm already planning my escape from the doldrums. I think I'll start by planting a sea of daffodils for the spring. But first I'm buying myself a new notebook.
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