Funny how our holidays often remind us of seasons just around the corner.
To me, Christmas always means snowy days and cold nights and winter moving in. Fourth of July always means hot and humid weather, with the promise for more oppressive summer heat during the next eight weeks.
Labor Day generally signals the end of summer, and it sure felt like it this past Monday. As Frank used to say, “One day you turn around, and it’s summer; next day you turn around, and it’s fall.”
Sure felt like fall on Monday. I do not have a problem with cooler days and nights. I’m more an autumn-winter fan than I am a spring-summer aficionado, so I’m looking forward to leaves changing colors, apple cider, nights by the fireplace, World Series games, chili con carne in a crock pot that’s been percolating all day.
But this Labor Day just seemed like a funeral. It was gray pretty much the whole day, cool temperatures and a little breeze in the air. I got about four miles worth of exercise during an hour-long walk in the neighborhood, and didn’t see many people around. A three-on-three basketball game, a couple people raking lawns, my neighbors cooking hot dogs in the back yard — huge summer gatherings and crowds seemed far away.
People always say Labor Day marks the end of summer. I’ve always considered that an odd statement because autumn doesn’t really begin until mid-September. We’ve still got two weeks of summer left, and heat and humidity could be part of the season’s clearance sale. I’ll still be cooking outside for another two months; I won’t be wearing blue jeans again until late October, shorts are still my fashion choice.
For me, Labor Day means annoying bugs will soon be out of the air, noisy motorcycles will soon be off the road. The outdoor projects I’ve spent weekends on this summer — painting the house foundation, aluminum fence, garage, window frames and front steps, sealing the driveway, sawing and splitting wood, mowing the lawn, planting and maintaining the garden — will all end. Sunny, warm days that always convince people to find outdoor projects will soon be out of stock.
Indoor projects during fall and winter seem a little easier. Cleaning out the basement, painting the bathroom and fixing the faucet in the kitchen sink can all be done without the rivers of sweat that often accompany July and August jobs outdoors.
I will miss the thunderstorms, baseball and picnics that come with blue skies and warm temps. But as people dip into melancholy moods as they watch summer begin its long goodbye, I will song no sad songs.
Well, maybe one:
“And I find, I’m smiling gently as I near ... September ... the warm September of my years,” as Frank used to say.
