Monday, August 20, 2012
BUMMER OF A SUMMER
Dawn seemed slow to find its path over the eastern horizon this morning, as if night had a firmer hold on things—which in a way, it does. Even now, a couple of hours later, it's still only 56˚F outside, a precursive cool hint of changing times.
Fall is definitely on the way. And not just because of the later sunrises and falling temperatures…but the very mood of the days themselves. You can feel autumn heading in your direction long before the first maple flutters a single golden leaf.
I hate it when I'm fickle. But the truth is, now that summer is on the wane, I don't want to see it go—not yet, even though I've said repeatedly that summer is my least favorite of the seasons. Nor does my reluctance to relinquish summer reflect a change in this attitude.
What it does register, however, is the fact that I really don't feel like I've had a proper summer this time around. Not for Ohio, anyway. There's been way too little rain, and way too much heat. Maybe this is a Texan's idea of summer, but for a Buckeye, summer is expected to be lush and green, punctuated with showers, and certainly not fourth months of sweltering day after drought-seared day.
I miss that summer. And now that it's obviously not going to happen, I feel cheated, robbed—seasonally mugged. The last few days have been great—green, cool, sunny. I've chased butterflies. Rambled trails. Gawked at wildflowers. But I haven't yet had my fill, my annual allotment of such summery pleasures, and I'm bummed.
Who would'a thunk…me fulminating over the passing of summer!