Tuesday, September 16, 2008
The "official" end of summer is Labor Day, but the actual end of summer isn't for a few more weeks. By my calendar, at least.
Some call this time "Indian summer" with its cool nights and chilly mornings and temperatures during the day that can soar to the mid to high 70s. Some of the leaves on the Oak Tree across the street are starting to "turn."
It's sometimes hard to figure out what to wear when you leave the house in the morning, so I tend to dress in layers. I love wearing a sleeveless summer shirt with a light sweater. Makes me feel like I've got the best of both seasons.
It's my favorite time of year.
The AC is off. The windows are open. There's an absolutely delicious breeze coming, causing the slats on the thin blinds on my window to make that occasional "rattle" sound, which immediately takes me back to the bedroom of my youth.
There were "venetian blinds" on my window. Remember them? Big, fat, wide tin slats, coated with white paint.
As a child, I loved to say the words, "Venetian Blind." It sounded mystical and magical to my ears. I used to dream of one day going to Venice to see the original blinds on the windows from my Gondola.
Sometimes, I would whisper it like a prayer, "Venetian Blind," hoping against hope that God would hear me and provide a way for me to visit that wonderful place.
I loved the twice-daily ritual of "pulling the blinds closed" every night, and "pulling them open" every morning. It gave an order to the day, punctuating the beginning and the end in a way that was unmistakable.
I find myself keeping that little ritual every day. I sometimes find that I can't sleep until I pull the blinds closed. The day won't get off to a good start unless I pull them open in the morning.
So, too, with the changing of the seasons. Don't get me wrong, I'm a summer kinda gal. I love the hot weather. I even love the humidity. Well, what I love most is to kvetch about the humidity.
But, there's something wonderful about being in the North East Corridor for the beginning of each change of the four seasons we enjoy.
It's odd but, for me, there's a wonderful sense of security in the change.
It's a little like God pulling the blinds closed or open four times a year.