Summer is almost over. So almost over. So today I'm catching up on things, and trying to leave things at home in a somewhat presentable state when I go off to work soon. Kind of like tying up the loose strings, writing the last letters, throwing away empty shampoo bottles; the people who may sift through my things when I am gone won't think I am a sloppy pig. Yes, the end of summer is kind of like dying. "A small death" I would write if it didn't have another meaning. And the end of summer is nothing like the other meaning.
But there is a certain kind of light I noticed last night, locking up at Finn Hall and walking into the house. Lingering and golden. Long shadows, and that veiling light and the leaves already smelling dry and aging. All mean summer is over. That is not to say hotter days are not to come. They'll come. And that is not to say that there is not one more long weekend coming and popsicles will still taste good. But there is a crunch to it. Apples and pumpkins and leaves all over the sidewalk and a sooner chill in the evening. All of that is close. So I'm cleaning house, getting ready.
Oh, but they use this feeling to trick you at the mall you know. The beautiful sweaters, and you're in the mood. But you won't be able to wear it till after Thanksgiving!