I can feel the change. If you lived here, you would walk outside and think I’m nuts. It’s unbearably hot and humid today. But I still see the trees fading – their deep emerald green is fading to a more muted and tired tone. Everything seems tired. The horses and dogs are tired of the heat. The garden is struggling. I’ve pulled the cucumbers and yellow squash. The tomatoes and eggplants have slowed down. The only thing really thriving right now are the zinnias.
But in my soul I feel the coming fall and sense the season’s change. I feel like a child clasping their hands and hopping up and down with excitement. Except instead of Santa Claus or Halloween I’m looking forward to open windows, fall colors, crisp air, baking, and long walks kicking up leaves.
And yet part of me is struggling to soak up this last bit of summer. I was reading a Gladys Taber book last night and came upon this passage. I absolutely loved it. I hope you do too — but I guess if you live in a place like Florida, it might be hard to imagine how wonderful this would be!
“I wish we could put up this late summer sunlight in jars. If we could only pack it, clamp the bail down on the glass, set the pressure cooker for say, ten pounds, and process jars and jars of bright, fresh, mellow sun! I can see it would look with the jars ranged in the fruit cellar beside the chicken and piccalilli and tomato catsup. And on a dark January day we would bring up a quart or so of sunshine and open it and smell again the warm dreamy air of a late summer day.” — The Book of Stillmeadow by Gladys Taber
