According to the calendar, summer doesn’t end until the autumnal equinox about three weeks into September, but Labor Day Weekend always feels like the fiscal end of summer, even if I no longer measure the year according to school vacations, as I did when I was a child, and as many do who have children now.
In our neighborhood, the school children disappeared from the streets in mid-August, which seems unusually early, but they also get out in late May. I’m not sure why. All I know is that the beginning of their school year brought an end to the sound of laughter as they chased each other around the neighborhood on impossibly small bicycles, stopping to greet my dogs if we happened to walk down the block where they were congregating that day.
Soon, I know, other endings will come: the end of hot, sunny weather, the end of leafy green trees, the end of nearly infinite twilight, and the end of an undecorated park, because there are no holidays between Independence Day and Labor Day for the Homeowners’ Association to celebrate with kitschy ornaments and seasonally colored twinkle lights.
While summer may be over, however I don’t see fall as any kind of ending. I find renewal in the turning of the leaves, refreshment in the cooler weather, inspiration in the earlier nightfall, and comfort in cozy evening spent at home, dressed in pajamas and fluffy slippers, and sipping tea or hot cider, while a fire crackles, and soup simmers in the crockpot.
Summer is not soup weather.
Summer is for salads.
If fall is an end to anything, it is the end of the time when I happily choose salads over warmer, more substantial foods. Bring on the pot pies and meatloaf – I’m ready for meals that require two utensils, instead of merely one.
So, while this weekend may be the end of summer in some senses, it is not the end of summer clothing, iced espresso drinks, or pink hair. I drink iced espresso throughout the year, summer clothing and winter clothing overlap greatly in our climate, and the pink hair is here to stay for a while, because it also signifies an end, and a beginning.
The end of stagnation.
The beginning of creative freedom, and personal fulfillment.
The end of summer.
But not “The End.”
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Fall is soup weather. A good reminder to see the good in all changes. I like your perspective.
I wrote a similar piece, but with two small children mine is more tied up with the de facto end of summer than the eventual end of the hot weather.
I love fall weather too, and always feel rejuvenated by the vibrant colors and cool, fresh air.
I’m inspired by those last lines of yours…”the end of stagnation~the beginning of creative freedom and personal fulfillment.”
“dressed in pajamas and fluffy slippers, and sipping tea or hot cider, while a fire crackles, and soup simmers in the crockpot.”
YES!
we repeat many things to start again…as you say and nature does
Love the pink hair! That’s so great that you’re brave like that! Mine’s straight and plain, maybe I’ll die it purple just for a shock!
Fall is soup weather at my house as well. In fact, as the weather cools I plan to post some of my best soup recipes on my blog.
And hot tea as well. I love a mug of tea on a cool night.
As you can see, you post got me thinking.
ooh, hot soup and fresh bread :-))
Wins over salad any day………
Just noticed Stacy’s comment, I’ll have to visit her during autumn.
Michele sent me to say hi, MissMeliss.
cq
Pink hair?
Great!
I can never even think of it..
“The end of stagnation.
The beginning of creative freedom, and personal fulfillment.” The prefect plan
Summer is almost endless her in Southern Baja, but the change in the air does come. The end of summer means days cool enough to spend hours combing isolated beaches, evenings may require a sweater…mornigns coffee by the firepit outside.
Soups! Aaah soups! And no one makes them the wy you do.
Good images.
I love your reflections on the change to fall. Although I’m not the biggest soup fan, I’ll happily enjoy the meatloaf.
Good observations!
There was a definite sense of hope and anticipation in this. I really enjoyed it. Because I live in New England where the winters are long and bitter, I do dread the end of summer a bit, but I must admit, Fall is one of my favorite times of year.
Thanks for stopping by, I’m just now getting around to visiting all the Sunday Scribblers.
Oh WOW I was there in the street with you … and tasting the salads, hearing the kids – fantastic! Thank You!