Let me just say, I know they’re coming. I imagine that The New York Times’ Verlyn Klinkenborg’s is in his word processor as we speak. (Though he probably still uses a typewriter.) It’s the end of one season, let’s give the transition of time a shoulder shrug, a how do you do, and still wax a little wistful about summer’s end.
So okay; here we go. It was the hottest, wettest, most humid, most unusual summer. If we had been in a relationship with the summer of 2011, our status would have been, “It’s complicated.” It was hard to love; foolish to hate; silly to waste. I never stayed indoors more than I have this summer. Some weekends I even stayed inside… writing, thinking (this actually can take up hours), but hiding from July.
I’m feeling much more outgoing this August… think it has to do with the slight pre-fall feel in the air, the breeze on the river outside my door, the weight of the “September books” at the newsstands.
I’ll tell you one decision I’ve made. (Every seasonal reflection includes one resolution; it’s de rigueur.) I pledge to spend less time online. It’s a poor synthetic for living, my opining and proclaiming and quipping at Facebook, Twitter, and here. Not that it isn’t fun. And not that I don’t want to give; but did I have to watch the quick clip of the Kardashian wedding? Did I have to check on how my friend’s book was doing on Amazon? (Come to think of it, I have to leave for a few seconds to see how True Prep is doing.) ( Back now.) Did I have to spend that much time at Awfulplasticsurgery.com? All of that can wait.
So let’s make the best of what remains of this summer. Eat fresh corn and tomatoes and fruit. (I’m a nectarine girl, but loving pluots, too.) (Pluots: the food equivalent of Labradoodles. Discuss.)
Until next time,