Labor Day weekend is always kind of a sad holiday.
Shadows are longer, the days are shorter. We know it's coming.
It means we say hello to Autumn, which is a good thing, but it also means a good-bye to summer must be said. She leaves gradually, quietly, making sure September keeps her blue skies and fluffy clouds, and some still-soft mornings to savor.
Summer. Our friend we wait so long....long.....long to see. I do hate to see her go.
She shows up just after our brilliant Spring leaves, laughs, giggles, wiggles and makes everything mellow, beautiful, soft, serene. She offers life--at its best--easy going and carefree--with the sounds of birds, bees, the lamplight in the late evenings of fireflies and frogs singing her periwinkle sunsets away.
We know Autumn has her delights: misty mornings--jacket required--all with delicious, alluring smells. Smells all crisp and tart, like our favorite apples. And yet we know that it's a short season, chased off all too quickly by that frosty, snappy, wearing-out-its-welcome Winter.
Yes, I look forward to Fall's arrival, but dearly hate to say goodbye to summer.
So I'll say....SO LONG.
And bid Autumn in with busy and long sessions of canning: tomatoes, pickles, apples in sauces and fillings--a busy time of gathering in and storing up. Time to enjoy the connection I feel at this time to grandmothers long past, whom I never met, doing the same, getting food ready to nourish their families once they settled in for the long winters.
A time to enjoy the brilliance displayed in her colors, all the while melancholy underneath the surface, because we know that it is the death of summer that must take place to bring about the birth of Autumn.