As Summers Fade

Years ago, my sister Missy would get teary-eyed on her daughters’ first day back at school in August. Each year, she valiantly petitioned the school administration to delay the start of classes until after Labor Day (as when she and I were in school), but to no avail. The teachers offered Missy hugs of sympathy and support, mentioning that most other parents couldn't wait to get their kids out of the house.

Missy and me,
August 18, 2025

Besides being an excellent mother who cherishes time with her daughters, Maren, Sarah, and Morgan, my sister is a summer person. 

Missy has become even more enthusiastic about summer since installing a pool in her backyard. That pool draws her now-grown daughters back home for relaxed, carefree visits, even though they are fully launched and spread out across the country. 

I used to dread summer's end, too. But by mid-August, at this point in my life, I realize that part of me is willing to give up local tomatoes, ice cream, barbecuing, white pants, and a poolside lifestyle for the promise of mums, pumpkins, soups, sweater weather, and my treasured spooky season.

Sacrilegious as it may sound, I even wish that the summer’s annual flowers, which brought me so much pleasure just two months ago, would go away. Die, even. I dislike watering these flowers every day, as is necessary when temperatures soar into the nineties.

Then there's the guilt of not using our own pool enough. When I was younger, I longed for a backyard pool. It felt like the ultimate luxury. Now that Joe and I have one, we sometimes find it hard to fit in enough pool days to justify the cost.

My shift from summer to fall isn't a simple seasonal swap. As Labor Day approaches, I still feel the same pangs of melancholy I'd experienced as a kid going back to school. 

Equinoctial purists will say that summer officially lasts until the third week of September. OK, but September is a transitional time. Its golden hues feel different from the bright light of June. The sun sets earlier, and the leaves, before they burst with color, are a dark shade of green.

October is my favorite month, but September serves as a wedge, a buffer, and a liminal phase. 

Beaching it with Joe
in Oak Island, NC, last week

The most festive part of the year comes in its last three months. But to get there, one must first say farewell to summer. 

With Labor Day just around the corner, I am once again filled with ambivalence. 

Summer 2025 has been wonderful, full of travel, experimenting with new seasonal recipes, reading memoirs, and relaxing by the pool. 

As it winds down, like my sister with her kids’ old teachers, I could probably use a hug.

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