sucking candy

Of all seasons, summer is the one most laden with sugar. And at the end, you’re left wondering if you got it all in, sucked up every last bit of it, before the steady diet of winter potatoes and cabbage begins (I think like a Pole).

The confection is not only in the weather, the harvest of fruits, the profusion of warm days – it’s also, for me, in the number of non-office days. And long evening hours, with the sun still up, pushing you to do more, to put in solid chunks of time into your favorite projects.

For an educator, Labor Day is like the gate slamming in your face. The good thing is that you get to lay out your clothes for the next day and they don’t feel tired. And neither do you. The bad thing is that the day has only so many hours and increasingly, the free ones are on the dark side of the day’s spectrum.

And now for the taking stock: if I call myself a writer and a photographer, what has summer contributed to either?

My book moved forward, slowly. But, on the up side, this week you will see on Ocean the unveiling of another tome, one with few words, but with a lot of color and pizzazz. And with these reviews from a number of lucky souls who had a chance to preview the effort:

That’s just like you, to take on the complicated production of something that will bring you no returns. Had you no entrepreneurial lesson in your communist upbringing at all?

It’s beautiful! Gorgeous! Now can we eat dinner?

And while I’m on the subject of writing and photography, let me warn all good people contemplating a showing of their talent in some gallery-type presentation – think twice. So much work! Like planning for a dinner party where you’re not sure you’ll even have a good time, and with great concerns that too many will be there for the free food rather than the heady experience of once again seeing your art. (The show is on the first week-end of October: look for further postings inviting you to attend. Refreshments provided. Of the cheap kind.)

And so, as I am sucking on the last sweetness of the season, I’m thinking that it was a good one. These bridge days to the next season are like the tips of the glads that I keep refreshing and cutting back, not wanting to chuck it all just yet. And anyway, tomorrow promises to be the warmest day of the year. So there.



Buy print 1999