Autumn Nears

Or maybe its already here. August has slipped away, and we are on the verge of September, but the entire month seems to have been a prelude to Autumn. The light has shifted from a glare to a warmer golden hue. The air has gone from steamy to dry, and on a clear day, the sky is so achingly blue that you can see the outer edges of the atmosphere. But overall, it is noticeably cooler, "brilliant skies and frigid nights," as Maine weather man Lou McNally declared on the radio this morning. I've even noticed maple trees starting to turn, shedding just a few crimson and copper leaves onto the ground below. So much for the dog days of summer.

The air conditioner we bought in a mad rush at Home Depot one evening in early July--a hive of panicked consumers buzzing around the ransacked display--has been quietly resting, and blankets have come out of the closets to grab in the middle of the night as temperatures drop. Flip flops are making room for clogs, (I haven't even painted my toes once this summer!) tshirts and tank tops are making way for layers, and (gasp!) fleece. Yesterday I popped over to Reny's, my favorite local discount store, where I saw racks of parkas, hats, ear warmers, gloves, and ski pants. Sigh. Even though there are officially three weeks more of summer, it is unofficially over.

So, even though there is a lot to look forward to, warm indian summer days (please!), cozy sweaters, a walk on a crisp night amidst the smell of home fires burning, I still feel a certain bittersweet longing. Its a feeling that always returns this time of year. When I was younger, it was the sadness of having to give up carefree summers for the rigor and discipline of school (tempered, however, by back to school shopping and a parade of new outfits.) As I've grown older, I experience twinges of nostalgia, a longing to be released from the cumbersome grind of work and adult responsibilities to return to those carefree school days and childhood friendships.

In Maine, where the boundaries of the seasons are abrupt and the shrinking days are measured, I wonder if the sadness one feels this time of year is indeed a chemical and hormonal response to light and heat withdrawal, a "seasonal affective disorder". Many people I've spoken to feel some sadness that the summer has faded away. They have an inventory of projects not started or finished, days not logged at the beach, or observations, like "the crickets are getting quieter". Mostly, I think we are bracing ourselves for the winter that looms a few months ahead.

But, since I can't stop the globe from turning, all I can do is take comfort in Lou's forecast for "brilliant skies". That IS something to look forward to, today.