"THE END OF SUMMER"

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ONE MORE SUMMER IS GONE.
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"In the good old summertime,
In the good old summertime,
Strolling thru' a shady lane
With your 'baby mine.'
You hold her hand and she holds yours
And that's a very good sign
That she's your tootsie wootsie
In the good old summertime!"

(Evans/Shields, 1902)

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The old fishing holes are empty,
The old cane poles are languishing...
Barefoot little boys are back in school.

The voice of the turtle has come and gone
In our land.
The cicadas never came this year---how strange.
And where were the crickets?
Not a single cricket was heard; strange too.

Summer was truly a GRAND TIME this year,
As it always is.
But it is: "The End of Summer!"

Oh, there are still things happening---
But summer is waning.
For teen-age kids, that is no big deal,
But if one has seen seventy-plus summers, already...
It is painfully, one less.

My editor says: "Write that summer's over."
I said, "I think I will---it's poetic!"
It evokes all kinds of memories and nostalgia,
Back to even the childhood days of summer,
In the 40's---vivid memories!

After all, summer is very American!
Summer is America's  "cup of tea!"
Look at old magazine pictures---
Look at Norman Rockwell's paintings.
Look in your own mind...

Billowing thunderheads, friendly skies...
Shady swimming holes on a pond or creek...
Barefoot boys with cane poles.
Picnics in the park: church picnics, family picnics,
Fourth of July celebrations---
Softball games, volley ball games, kids playing.
Swimming pools with shouting children.

Loads of food: hot dogs, hamburgers, fried chicken...
Deviled eggs, cornbread, cantaloupe, watermelons...
Tables filled with pies, cakes, and cobblers...
Ice chests and tubs packed with ice, and
All kinds of soft drinks!

At home, digging in the soil, growing flowers
Gardening, nursing those tomatoes plants for
Those unsurpassed vine-ripened tomatoes.
Lawn mowers humming around the neighborhood.

Vacationing, hiking, bicycling...
Summer concerts at the city park or zoo...
People just out for a stroll and walking the dog.
Or vice-versa!

Yet, the days are getting shorter---the
Nights longer and cooler;
We need that extra blanket at night!
Soon the nip will really be in the air.

Yes, fall is almost here.

We've noticed a change in the past few days;

There's a new quietness, a stillness

In the air...

And a new gentleness about the light...

The light seems somehow softer.

We can already smell the cedar wood burning
In fireplaces.
Before you know it, we'll be sipping hot apple cider, and
Watching the Dallas Cowboys!

We are only a few weeks 

From the priceless Indian Summer Days

Of October!

Nature's most beautiful scenes and colors
Of the year will soon be ours, as the leaves turn
To those great oranges, browns, yellows and faded greens...
Nothing like the warm fall colors!

Still we think of all the fun last summer,
And all the past summers of our lives...
When the whole world was young,
And we realize that one more is gone,
And it's a long time 'til the next one.

Summertime, a poetic season, always
Makes me think of song:
Doesn't Stephen Foster's song
"I Dream of Jeannie" remind us of
A bright summer's day---
"I dream of Jeannie with the light brown hair,
Born like a zephyr on the summer air;
I see her tripping where the wild flowers play,

 Happy as the daisies that dance on their way..."

Can't you just visualize the sunshine,
light, and airiness of the season?

This sad and nostalgic Irish tune of Thomas Moore (1815), "The Last Rose of Summer," is running through my mind:

"'Tis the last rose of summer
Left blooming alone;
All her lovely companions
Are faded and gone.
No flower her kindred,
No rosebud is nigh
To reflect her blushes.
Or give sigh for sigh."

May all your days, even winter ones, be ever as bright as summer.

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BY MIL
9/14/12








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