Endings

It is Labor Day weekend and all across Massachusetts the white belts and white shoes are headed for the closet. When I was a boy, most of the businessmen downtown would wear straw boaters with a black band during the Summer. I have not seen one of those in a long while.
The maple tree in the front yard is turning colors and the tomatoes are tired. The tomatoes are still trying their best but soon it will be picalilly time. Soon the Fall will be upon us.
Fall in New England, probably the best season that we have. The time of sweaters and wood smoke and hot cocoa and cinnamon doughnuts and boiled dinner and yard sales. Then will come Thanksgiving, my favorite holiday. The turkey is always the right size and the right color and you don't have to save the price tags.
Then the Winter will begin to set in. I enjoy the Winter. Sleeping under a thick, warm, blanket while visions of sugar plums and stews and soups and roasts dance in your head. Dressing for the cold by layering and enjoying the cold by adjusting to it. It is the season to realize just how lucky we are to live where we do. It is the time of warm hearths and warm hearts. It is a time to rest and reflect. It is a time to be adjusted to, unlike Summer which is a time to be endured.
I guess that I am just an old Swamp Yankee but I enjoy being one. The crackling of a fireplace is preferable to the constant drone of an air conditioner. The stale smell of air conditioned air can in no way compete with the fragrance of an apple pie in the oven or freshly baked bread on the counter. Did I mention the cinnamon doughnuts?
I am sitting here with a blanket across my lap as there is a cool breeze blowing in the window, a promise of things to come, and there is Masterpiece Theater scheduled for tonight. It is not Poirot but it will suffice. It is the best of times. Last night was opera from St. Petersburg. It was very impressive. There was also a show about the origins of Homo Sapiens and how we learned to walk upright. The show stressed that at one time there were probably hundreds of different Hominids on the planet but that now we are alone. It was a sad commentary on our nature.