In the United States, Labor Day weekend is a symbolic transition into fall; depending on where you live, it also marks the start of a new school year. As such, the weekend becomes a frenzy of activity; we’re supposed to soak in the last bits of summer, cram into three days what we didn’t get done during the longest, slowest months of the year.
For once, though I didn’t attend a single barbeque or jump into any nearby bodies of water, I think I did exactly that this Labor Day weekend. Wine tasting, hiking, the warmth of an inland evening, indulgent dinners, and champagne on a beach means that I’m ready to file Summer 2018 away. I even made an apple crisp for dessert last night, using fruit from a friend’s tree, as a way of greeting our new, almost-officially-here season.
I recognize, of course, that it’s all in our heads. Even as I sit here wearing a sweater, my feet tucked cozily into slippers that daringly hint at the cold months ahead, I know that the earth doesn’t actually watch the calendars we’ve created for its changes.
Why, then, does it feel so much like autumn this morning? However it happens, I’m happy about it, ready for the bundling to come, satisfied that I made the most of the lazy days of summer not only in the last few days, but also in the many weeks before them.
Though in six months, I’ll no doubt be dreaming of summer once more, I’m ready to tuck in to the days ahead. Isn’t that the most wonderful thing? Regardless of the customs we create, the earth moves at its own sweet pace through the seasons, allowing us to enjoy the magic that is native to every single one.
The Wandering Introvert 