This Labor Day weekend will always stay in my memory -- for the labor-free days, for the absence of Ed, off somewhere in a boat, and for the incredible weather -- probably the best Labor Day weather we have ever had. Sunny, with temps in the low 70sF (so about 22C). Perfection!
Still, Labor Day itself does stand for something inevitable, unstoppable and for most of us -- regrettable. The end of summer.
When my kids were little, I both looked forward to the start of their school year and dreaded it. I hated the early morning rush and the homework crunch. But I loved their re-engagement with learning. With school friends. With life outside the home. Now, the end of summer has a different meaning. I'm focused on the warmth of the day, the status of the flower fields, and yes, thoughts about next summer: how will it present itself? How should I plan for it?
(Morning walk)
(Breakfast)
I dont linger too long over breakfast. I want to bike over to Stoneman's, for the first ears of corn that they'll put out on this last day of their season.
All six of the Stoneman kids (actually grandkids, cousins to each other) are there helping today. (If you want to see their active engagement in the corn picking and selling project, just look at the Stoneman FaceBook page. The grandma was in charge of social media posts this year and she did a phenomenal job putting up daily photos of the kids "at work.")
There's an article in the NYTimes explaining how the summer's end brings with it a sadness that needs to be acknowledged, in the same way that it's best to acknowledge the passing of a pet or an important person in your life. Spend time allowing yourself to be sad. Don't just leap into the next phase of your life without looking back. As you know, I'm not one who loves to look back and I'm also not one who likes to wallow in mopiness. My reticence I'm sure is born of two things: I feel I wasted a good part of my adolescence festering in the sadness of unrequited love. I wish I had learned then to dig myself out of that hole. And secondly -- I've watched my mother drown herself in misery over every event in her life that did not meet her expectations, and I've watched her get stuck in that sinkhole, without ever developing the ability to move on. I suppose in my eternal quest not to go down that lane, I've moved too much away from exploring sadness.
Maybe too much, but not totally! As I drove up to Stoneman's -- that familiar road that leads up to their corn barn, with the cows to the left and the home of one of the young families to the right, I sighed big time. And as one of the kids intuitively helped me pack the 13 ears of corn into my bike basket, and others leapt to help as well, I recognized that end of summer feeling, where something you take for granted in July is now about to close down for the year. The door to my summer, their summer, our summer was being shut right there, at Stoneman's farm. One small scene of kids packing up my corn, made me cry.
In the afternoon I did do a little spot weeding, just in case I decide to put my energies into the garden again next spring.
And then I Zoomed with my two Law school friends, because it had been a while since the three of us chatted together. I'd been piggybacking on various "others" accounts to have lengthy conversations (Free Zoom allows for only 40 minutes -- never enough!), but today I took the plunge and purchased my own Zoom account for the year. I need Zoom in my life. I need to stay connected. Period.
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Quiet evening with a book (my friends recommended several: will I have time to finish any of them, given that my labor-free weekend is coming to an end? Of course I will! It'll just take that much longer).
For supper, I make the Lithuanian cold beet soup that Poles have embraced as their own. I like it quite a lot. My Polish friends like it. I dont know a single American who would share that love. I think you have to be born within the (fluid to be sure) Lithuanian or Polish borders to think that cold beet soup is a summer must. Sort of like fireworks are to an American on the Fourth of July. So I end my summer with it.
Here's what went into mine (missing in the photo: lemon juice, kefir, yogurt, and the egg):
Here's the final product.
I have an ear of Stoneman's corn on the side. Last time I can eat corn picked that very morning!
It's been a really full, really good summer, here at the farmette! So are we ready for September sniffles, an October deep freeze, November dreariness, December short days, January Arctic blasts, the interminable February winter slog, and unexpected March ice storms??
with love...
