I’m Not Ready to Say Goodbye to Summer
This summer was among the most memorable of my life. I learned how to sail, rode in an array of yachts, challenged myself to swim under the Blue Water Bridge and down the river. Sunrises, full moons, Northern lights, dinner parties, friends and family, midnight swims, and outdoor concerts.
Many milestones. Each day, I gave thanks for these moments. An amazing summer.
Shorts are washed and filed away along with swimsuits. Slippers replace sliders. The pup's hair gets thicker, the tan fades, snow fences go up, decks are emptied, and flowers are pulled. Lawn mowers will be stored and snow shovels dusted off. Refreshing white wine will be replaced with heavier French Bordeaux; Pinot Grigio swapped for Pinot Noir.
Stunning red, yellow, and gold-leafed trees glisten against the skyline.
Hearing people rave about fall, football, and pumpkin-flavored baked goods…makes me want to scream.
Yesterday, reality took shape, unfolding with clarity. In 70-degree weather, the beach furniture was stored in the garage. Hauling the sailboat off the beach felt like bidding farewell to a cherished companion. I fought to keep my emotions in check, my chest tightening as I removed the final furniture.
It’s not like summer's end came as a surprise. Michigan has four seasons, and Mother Nature follows her own schedule.
Sunrises are later, and sunsets are earlier. Unopened windows will protect us from the chilly, dank nights. Soon furnaces will be turned on.
The cool, earthy scent of fall mornings brings on a funky feeling that I can't quite shake. Probably the best way to describe this is that I am grieving. Losing the 76-degree water temperature, light clothing, and sunlight, my serotonin levels have dropped.
The snowy, zero-degree weather in winter is to be expected.
Everyone in Michigan is aware of the February ‘ick’ factor; the Michigan gray skies and icy days keep us indoors. My beach buddies and I address this with weekly dinners and game nights. The warmth of a fire lifts all our spirits.
However, this futile fall feeling is a cause for concern. It is a forced adaptation, a necessary adjustment.
We know not to fight Mother Nature. She decides how our days begin. Today’s rain, from the hurricane in Florida, is cleansing the air.
I need to embrace the anticipation that surrounds it. Cozy clothes, hot toddies, and full bouquets of color. Rather than feel a loss of summer ending, this seasonal conversion can be a new opportunity. A transformation. Hearty soups and stews, candles and soft blankets. After all, it is not like this is going to last…
What do you do when summer, sunlight, and warm breezes leave too soon?
— Sally
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