It hurts to see you go

This Summer has been one for the record books where I live. Day after blissful day of heat and humidity. Cooking outdoors every night, sipping cocktails on the deck as the moon rises bright orange into the not-quite-dark sky.

But now it’s coming to an end. Not quite yet but soon, all too soon.

I drive through nice (upper) middle-class neighborhoods on my way to work each day. The homes and lawns are well-kept without being pretentious.

It occurred to me this morning while driving in that we don’t decorate our homes for Summer. Every other season seems to evoke the need to drape something along our awnings or set-up a lawn tableau but not Summer. Summer stands alone. It offers up it’s own ornamentation. The trees are heavy with rich green leaves the sun and shade create a dappled affect on lawns and porches. We don’t put decorations in our windows in Summer because even better than taping up faux leaves or pilgrims and turkeys we get an unobstructed view of the great outdoors. We see our neighborhoods alive with activity that will taper off as the daylight dwindles and the trees become bare. Sure there’s the random “occasional” flag with a beach scene on it or the doormat shaped to look like a random row of flip-flops but these don’t jump out at you, they aren’t staring at you from windows or dancing on the lawn in the breeze.

Is that why we do it? Is that why we voluntarily start to obscure our view as the seasons change to Fall and Winter? We know there’s nothing more to look at when we get home from work in the dark. The lawn dies off, the trees are bare, the decorations manage to lift our spirits until Summer comes around again.

This need for ornamentation starts in September and doesn't end until the days start to become noticeably longer. We decorate through the Winter holidays with lights and wreaths and snowmen. We hang sparkly hearts in our windows as February 14th nears and Spring brings bunnies and pastel eggs in windows and on lawns. Only Summer stands alone.

This morning on my way to work, despite the heat and humidity pressing down around me, I found myself looking at the houses for signs of seasonal change. I wasn’t looking for the leaves on the trees to have changed I was looking for those stupid blow-up lawn ornaments of football players or some kind of silly window decoration of fall leaves or school buses. There were none to be found. Not yet, not today but I know that in the next few weeks they will start to creep up. School starts this week, there will probably be a few decorative school buses taped into windows as some little ones go to school for the first time and the parents want to make it fun, maybe there will be a few fake leaves in gold and magenta framing those cardboard school buses. Front doors will start to sport autumnal wreaths with gold leaves and mini-pumpkins. Mums, already on sale at Home Depot, will line porches and stairs in rich colors like purple and burgundy.

Within weeks those generic seasonal items will be joined by Halloween specific décor, skeletons leaning into door frames and bouncing, blow-up haunted houses on front lawns.

I’m not a huge fan of those “other” seasons. I’d love to have endless Summer, long, hot days and short, warm nights year after year would suit me just fine. I know most people love the change of seasons. Each season brings something else to love but I can’t help but mourn the end of Summer every year. I don’t want the leaves to change color; I don’t want the days to get shorter. I don’t want to bundle up in sweaters and scarves. I hate being bundled up for any reason.

Despite the fact that there were no real outward signs of the change of seasons on my commute to work I could still sense the change. The sunlight is different already, too low in the sky, too slanted for the time of day that I’m on the road. A few short weeks ago it was high in the sky and burning bright at the same time.

Oh Summer, I miss you already and you haven’t even turned the corner yet to go.