Well the sun’s not so hot in the sky today,
And you know I can see summertime slipping away. . .
It is the last day of August, and I am home, feeling icky all over from my usual back-to-school cold that grips me every year before Labor Day weekend. I have a fine history of having so-they-say tasty hamburgers and hot dogs that, because of the lovely cold, I cannot taste.
Dare I predict that the same will happen tomorrow?
Hardly a bold prediction, I do admit. Case in point: a plastic lid just fell down on the heat element of the dishwasher and is melting. Do I smell the odor of burning plastic?
Apparently it’s quite bad.
But with all this comes, wonderfully so, the month of September.
James Taylor, on his last original CD, October Road, includes as his first track the song, “September Grass.”
Do you see those ants dancin’ on a blade of grass?
Do you know what I know? That’s you and me baby.
We’re so small and the world’s so vast,
We found each other down in the grass.
Won’t you lie down here right now
In this September Grass.
The smell of September grass, the shift of days as the run of temps in the 80’s replaces the more scorching 90’s, the presence of pumpkins and the hint of harvests as our weekend drives get more colorful with each passing day.
With these things comes the melancholy, too. The retreat within, where all that has ever mattered to me fills me, consumes me, as I ponder life, love, and all that falls between.
I look forward to this period, for immediately following the melancholy comes a certain burst of creativity and product, where I will write my best stuff of the year in the weeks that follow. It is when I wish every day of my life were so intense, so productive, so rich.
And maybe this year, I will be able to hold on to it a little longer than usual. Much has happened to me this year, and so I believe that anything is possible if I put my mind to it.
Happy Birthday to RC! Welcome to the 42-ers!
And here’s a special prayer for my sister in Florida who just beat her cancer. She fell yesterday and broke her hip. . .Like I said, it’s been an intense year.
Won’t you lie down in this September Grass. . . .