Summer says GOOD-BYE
Along the Trail
The back of summer is broken. By the time the rolled up Victoria Standard finds its way into your mailbox, it will be mid-august, and that means fall is on our doorstep. The days are still long, it’s hot... stinking hot, and the streets of Baddeck swarm with summer visitors. But it still creeps up on us, that glorious season called autumn.
“No way, you bluster. It is still beach weather, sandals and shorts.”
True enough, but the days are getting shorter at both ends and soon, very soon, you will see the difference. The sun will be slower to rise (as will I), quicker to set, and other signs will begin to manifest themselves. The baby birds will have fledged, the hummers will be getting ready to journey south or at least have completed pre-boarding. Unknown to you, some of our small songbirds will already be gone, no longer singing their sweet songs from the bushes or alders along the streams. On these hot days, crickets will drone on as the sun climbs high in the sky. It’s the “dog days of summer”, but the dog will soon stop howling.
Someday soon, you will be driving somewhere and you will see the first maple tree turning. It is usually the swamp maples that go first, but it is a sure sign that the rest will soon follow. “Time nor tide wait for no man.”
Mushrooms will begin to sprout in the meadows around the county and goldenrod will be abundant. My nose will run like a broken tap and many of us will curse the ragweed season.
The Loons and their babies will be heading to salt water. Like our summer residents, they leave when the first hard frost shows itself. That can be anytime.
In the little village of Baddeck, bus tours will replace all the family sedans and SUV’S as the families head back to wherever school is about to start. Some teachers are already standing in front of the mirror practicing their hollering.
But the best is yet to come. Long before the snow flies and naked trees dot the landscape, autumn will play out its glorious, too short season. If life was fair, fall would be at least another month longer, maybe two. Take any other month (say January, July or April), trade them one on one and what a place this would be. It’s not too shabby now, but imagine two Septembers or Octobers. What is the definition of heaven?
I, for one, will not lament the passing of summer. The humidity, blackfies, bugs, weeds and traffic will all die down to a dull roar. The wood stove will crackle to life and radiant heat will fill the house. Wool sweaters will replace swim suits and sandals. I will miss the relative state of undress that passes for fashion in summer (shorts and sandals) but am quite content to don a vest or jacket as I head out into the clear, crisp autumn air. Even November doesn’t scare me. I must be a bat, but I like the short days and late mornings. Soon, I will pile wood in the shed without blood running down my neck. Summer: thanks, it’s been a blast .But bye-bye. The best is yet to come.