Friday, August 11, 2017

Flashback Friday









We know that autumn does not begin with the turning of the leaves, but earlier, on some forgotten afternoon, when a shadow passed over the fields and it was no longer summer.


First posted on August 16, 2008

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I intentionally hunted for this post.  It was one of my first blogs on this new site designed to let my family know what I was doing as they were in Florida and Missy and I were in BFE.  After almost 10 years I recall the picture and the few words which accompanied it.  It is a haunting phrase - I have remembered it all this time.  It is disarming for a couple reasons.

Firstly, its most obvious intonation is its mournful vigil for a time of year, perhaps the best one, as it makes way for yet another in the endless cycle of seasons.  I know a lot of people who prefer Fall - the cooler days and colorful ambiance.  But for me, Summer was the best.  It was all green with life, and long as a baseball game in extra innings.  It was no school and freedom and a beckoning of possibilities.  Of mischief and exploration.  Long rides in your own damn car that never ended. Of loves won and lost.  Of dark nights and stars that twinkled and stars that raced on evening skies that made you feel both insignificant and special at the same time.  Like a maestro conducting the heavens - you - alone against the background of the universe.

Secondly, the phrase suggests our own passing into another season.  Unseen was a shadow that passes us all and reminds us that summer is over.  Our personal autumns do not begin with a turning of the leaves but at some time we never recognized or realized until later.  I remember when I noticed the first time summer was passing for me.  I was driving to work and looked in the rear view mirror and saw lines I had never seen before.  I have since banned mirrors anywhere in my vicinity.  But banning mirrors will not end the changing of seasons and I am so afraid of winter.  But I have many moons, dark skies and children's hugs until the winter frost.  I am here now, and although another season has passed, I will bundle up, make my fire and take what may. 

August 10, 2017        

2 comments:

  1. So true in my world also. Reminds me of this little thought: At one point in your life, your mother picked you up and held you for the last time. She never picked you up again.

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  2. There are many lasts in a lifetime that we never realize at the moment. You may have picked one of the most melancholy ones.

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