After the Boys of Summer are Gone

LABOR DAY

Wow, it's been quite a little while since I've posted anything here.  I often think to myself that I would like to share something, but the time gets away from me and it's either no longer relevant or my goldfish-like brain lets go of the details and it's difficult to put it into words in a way that captures the moment or the idea.

If you have not figured it out, I'm very much a summer person. I could very easily adjust to a place where 80 degrees and sunny was the forecast, stretching into the future like Groundhog Day.  My astute brother-in-law insists I would miss the changing of the seasons, but that's why God invented foliage season in Vermont.  Then I'd want to go home to my boardshorts and SPF30.  A Certain Party and I recently visited central California, and -- traffic aside -- I could easily adapt to the perpetual warm, sunny days and cool, made-for-sleeping nights.  The eternal summer weather brings with it a more laid-back lifestyle, too, at least for those who can afford to enjoy it. I do think I'd miss the rain, though.  Maybe I'm more Seattle than Santa Barbara.

Labor Day, although it is not the official end of summer, brings with it a feeling of melancholy.  While others wax rhapsodic about crisp days spent apple-picking, I am already dreading my impending engagement with the rake, followed closely by intimate familiarity with the snow shovel. 

Either way, whether you are sorry to see summer go or glad about it, the change of seasons triggers an impulse to take stock, look back, and look ahead.  I hope to use our upcoming rainy day off to get some of my summer's highlights "on paper" before they disappear.