Here are some
of the things I remember about the end of summer.
Whatever
Happened to Baby Jane was playing in the drive-in; reruns of “Last of the
Mohicans” starring John Hart; late raspberries; peanut butter and cinnamon
spread sandwiches; not being allowed to go swimming in the public pool the last
2 weeks of summer because Mom thought the water would be too dirty; Mom sewing
our new school clothes; new perms and haircuts; new running shoes; reading
Nancy Drew mysteries under the willow tree; reading “Emma” by the pool in
Kitchener; reading “The Godfather” on the bus going to my first job; cattle
roundup in the dog days of summer; going for a boat ride down the creek with my
brothers and nephews; making apple pie with my own apples; inspecting my
potatoes to check for ripeness (never ready) and always, always, dreading the
first frost!
The
end of summer is a very nostalgic time but not always in a good way because the
memories are usually bittersweet. It’s
the goodbye to summer part that is so hard to bear even though there are
pleasant days ahead in the autumn. Even
the sound of the word “autumn” is nice and brings up pleasant thoughts. But that
in between time, the last 2 weeks of August is really hard, like squeezing the
last bit of juice out of an already squished orange. It can be done but it’s tough.
Meanwhile,
I’ve been soaking up the sun.
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