A farewell to summer

Farewell, Summer.
I know I’m about a week early with my adieus but it really does feel like Summer days are gone.
On Facebook, parents are posting first day of school pictures of their kids.
On television,the back-to-school commercials have been blaring for weeks.
And in my backyard, the fireflies have quit playing tag in the lilacs.
Maybe they were never really playing tag, but it sure seemed like it. I would glance up from my book or an episode of “Major Crimes” and their little bug lights would be flickering throughout the lilacs — in and out, in and out, in and out. You’re it, Firefly Number Three.
It was a reminder of neighborhood tag, “Starlight, Moonlight,” and romps in the twilight when we played in the streets until mom or dad called us in for bed. As long as there were fireflies, flickers of memory made Summer hang on.
But after a summer of intense firefly activity in my yard, I’ve noticed their absence in recent days. No little flickers of light to remind me that this is the season for spending time outdoors. No phosphorescent shrubbery to lure me to the window. Even the basketball from next door has stopped bouncing.
So, farewell, Summer. I’m ready for Autumn.
Yes, I can say Autumn, that fancy word for fall. When I wrote for a newspaper, that was forbidden. But fall is not a good enough word for how I feel about crisp September nights, breezy October days, and the colors of leaves who also know that Summer is gone.
So I can rest easy with another Summer gone. But, Autumn, I expect you to stick around long into November. I won’t forgive your early departure as I did Summer’s. I’m making room for you in the yard, packing up extra flower pots, collecting up the unused hoses and cleaning up the last of Summer’s projects.
Stick around, Autumn. We’ve got bikes to ride, leaves to rake, and walks to take. And we can’t do it without you.

4 thoughts on “A farewell to summer

  1. I didn’t know we creatures of the newspaper weren’t supposed to write autumn. Was that an edict that came after I left, many years ago? Fall is a fine word, and works most of the time, but I’d think that sometimes you just have to write autumn, especially if your last name is Grooms and your first name is …. Never mind. By the way, I was riding my bike a couple of days ago and took a nasty autumn. Really did! Toppled off my $1,000 hybrid bike, which is half regular bike and half recumbent. Landed on my shoulder, but didn’t damage the bike, figuring the bike is worth a lot more than I am. You’d think a guy whose first car cost $75 would never spend $1,000 on a bike, but I have. Not sure how smart that investment was, but it’s done and I have the sore shoulder to prove it.

    • You are too funny, Brekke. I would think the $1,000 would be worth the tumble alone. As for autumn, I’m pretty sure that was a Teachout edict, but it could have been Merle. I hope your shoulder is feeling better. I’ve been out of town but am about to get back on my own bike, which is not fancy and cost me $5 at an estate sale. Then it cost me $89 to get a tuneup. Isn’t that the way it goes?

  2. I have been checking religiously for a new column from Geriland, but only because we’ve been into “autumn” for a spell now. I don’t have a bike because I wouldn’t know how to ascend with it from our third-floor loft. Bet, however, I wouldn’t have a problem taking a plunge. Seriously, we do have a wonderful bike trail that leads from our Phillips door and skirts several area of our wonderfully scraggy Falls Park. It would be more wonderful if we wouldn’t have to avoid all the honking big goose droppings that appear on it often. Wouldn’t you think they would take flight for warmer climes soon? Overnight it was into the low 30s, and very windy…a South Dakota trademark.

    • Lars, good to hear from you. I’m just cleaning up from a vintage sale with my sister Therese and someone else complained about my lazy blogging so I’ll get back at it now that I’ll be alone here in Geriland. Thanks for reading. Sounds like you are liking it back in South Dakota.

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