Carol Jane Remsburg
It always comes with a taste of joy along with a morsel of wistfulness knowing that the year is winding down to restore itself and begin anew amid the frosty, but bleak months in winter. September is such a busy time. It begins still within the realms of summer and helps us transition into a more regulated, stodgy pace. School comes back into session. Pool parties and weekend barbeques become less frequent. The humidity begins to lessen its grip and allows the promise of something more pleasing. It also signals the turn of the page, our time to make ready for whatever the cold will bring us.
Often we store, we nest, we clean up and clear out. We strengthen weak spots and tell ourselves we've done the job. Bitter times may be coming.
The gray skies move in and the breezes pick up. On occasion, such as this year, a hurricane will blow and bring winds of ill tide reminding us that we are all mortal. As we clean up in the aftermath of Isabel, we find ourselves lucky. There is no destruction we cannot correct with a little money and a little effort—this time. Isabel blew through as a harbinger that could have meant much more in the way of damage or death. For us, we were lucky, she simply howled and took away our electricity and laid heavy damage upon one of our trees. But then, we had a generator which allowed us to have the basics along with sharing some power with our neighbors.
Still, the clean up of downed branches and waiting for a tree service to call back does take time. Simply having hot water and lights not supplied by the generator was a joy to regain. Others have suffered far worse than we, and we are thankful to be safe.
September brings not just the chalk dust from the school boards of learning nor the frantic back-to-school shopping or even the promise of cooler mornings. The farmers have worked from early spring now to bring home the payday of the season. And they've worked hard indeed each season with no guarantee of a profit. It's a gamble for them at best. Last year was the "50-year drought" and the year before wasn't anything to write home about. Thus THIS year held promise.
The rains came early and often, refilling the low reservoirs along with all the lands in the region. The sun shone and the storms came. A little lightning and thunder and more rain; the land felt blessed and warmed to the attention. Growing things thrived and the humans also were refreshed. Each season does that for us, albeit often unnoticed. If you live in a tropical area it doesn't have the same impact. However the northern regions, even the Mid-Atlantic, among the most temperate of zones, where I live, each season is a gift. September is a gateway into all things good and wonderous.
Towards the end of September the skies go gray, the crops ripen, and the colors begin their transition. The corn from a vibrant, lush, and rich green to a withered and drawn light hue of straw. The corn itself weighs the stalk down.
The combine will come soon and reap the harvest. In its aftermath we'll wander the field for it's leavings to harvest our own for the birds and squirrels. Soon September will give way her weeping skies to the glories of October's brilliant clear and chilly blues. The winds will return and Mother Nature will again make herself known to the forefront of our conscious.
With every season changes come and we welcome each one as an old friend. I'll be sad to see September end, but I'll warmly embrace the lady October's fiery entrance.
I hope you'll join me.