In all honesty, the end of summer is kind of a beginning for me. I usually feel more like starting a new routine or embracing the true core of my being in early Autumn... "Life starts all over again when it gets crisp in the fall." (Said F. Scott Fitzgerald). And I agree. (All of these photos come from Facebook and Pinterest. I'm sorry, but I don't remember the actual contributors.)
I'm kind of one to analyze "the why" on things like that. Obviously Autumn has always been important to me because a teacher truly does begin her year, as does a student, in that glow of scarlet- painted leaves, in the light of a sun toning down, with gratitude for another chance to get it right. Well, I never really did. I had decades of really great years as a teacher, but that magic mojo we pray for was the green light in the distance, elusive... Just beyond the grasp. And it was hard to give up that dream.
I also loved the harvest season. My dad, who worked a full time career with Ma Bell, also was a farmer. Harvest season made him happy, and it brought him in for the evenings instead of out in the fields somewhere. We watched some TV in the sixties, and it was comforting to watch as a family. Mom sat with her feet curled under herself, books and magazines around her, pen ready to work on her lists and letters. Daddy had a great corduroy pillow, and he stretched out on the hardwood floor. Sometimes he'd snore a bit, but he was never asleep---just resting his eyes. That memory comforts me.
I enjoy the simpatico of fall colors. They bring to mind my grandmother, my aunts, and a dear friend of mine... A visit to Quincy was always in the wings in the fall. One great-aunt lived there... And she loved those trendy sixties oranges, beiges, and tonal greens.
So, of course, this Autumn, I'm reworking the summer schedule and reclaiming a new start.. Again. Another "Do-over" like the one on City Slickers... My elusive wardrobe and closet, Daddy's collections, the bay of the barn, "laying-by" the neglected flower beds, a back porch with its reproachful, dusty collections, my old home and all its mess weighing down my son... All those jobs await. But the contentment in new beginnings lies in the tranquility inherent in a fresh slate, a revised timetable, and a little nap before I start.