Yes, each year I write a wistful reflection that I call “Ode to Fall”. I’m not feeling it this year. This weekend is Labor Day, the “official” close of summer, and I’m unprepared. When I was teaching, I was acutely aware that summer lasted a week or two. A teacher friend once commented, years ago, that summer “was all downhill after Fathers’ Day”. Another teaching acquaintance referred to the large Rose of Sharon as the “oh, sh. . . plant”, because its blossoms heralded the start of school. Ok, that was bound to happen. But now that I’m retired, summer can extend itself for as long as possible. I’m ok with that.
I became aware of the season change in mid-August, when Starbucks discontinued the strawberries and cream frapuccinos that I’d come to quite like, along with some fruity drink that the Princess frequently ordered, because those were their “summer” flavors. Replaced by pumpkin spice. I know, right? Who drinks pumpkin drinks in the summer? Dunkin’s has rushed to keep up, so their pumpkin drinks are appearing too. The President has a penchant for issuing executive orders along with firing people. Maybe he could order a state of coffee emergency, and take over the coffee industry, ordering that no pumpkin-flavored anything is to be allowed out until at least late September. He could fire the people that are deciding when we all have to shift to fall flavors. And further, those deciding to roll out the peppermint in early November should be deported.
As I said, I’m simply not ready for fall. First, there was a lot I intended to do. Yes, I did some garden work, but not enough. I was lazy – I’ll admit that. A few of the beds look nice, but many are just a bit weedy, and have dead stalks that should have been trimmed some time ago. My neighbor, a delightful man, commented the other day that they “looked nice”. No, they really don’t, and I’m to blame. I should have done so much more. Now, I’ll leave them to their fates and turn my focus to the indoor plants. Or, as the Princess calls it, squandering her inheritance. Little does she know that that boat left the dock years ago and is miles down the river. I’ll make new plans, though, or revise old ones. “Possibly next year . . . . .” should be added to my Coat-of-Arms.
I had serious ambitions to clean out the basement, and when that was done, to do a bit of clearing out in the garage too. Nope, it didn’t happen. And we had a pipe burst in laundry area, gushing water into the basement and drowning a few boxes of crap stored there. Have I gone down and thrown them out yet? Nay, nay. If I don’t do something this fall, we’ll have some cultures growing down there that would make Sir Alexander Fleming proud. I suppose I could declare that it’s a medical research lab, but sadly, that grant money is drying up. Like all jobs of that sort, it’s overwhelming. A few years ago, when the Princess was coming back to Boston from DC, I cleaned out a large amount of floor space, and was truly proud of my work. Until she actually arrived with her stuff and filled it up again. Then, last year, she moved home while she finished her dissertation and didn’t need to be in Boston, so more of her stuff, and a lot of ours went down there too. And, voila, it looked like a scene from “Hoarders”. OK, not quite that bad, perhaps, but definitely “Container Wars”. Earlier this month, she accepted a teaching job in Atlanta, so she’s there now. Most of what’s in the basement now is ours, so my excuse went up in smoke. Although she did leave behind a significant amount of stuff from her childhood, and I’m under strict instructions not to throw out anything until she’s gone through it. That won’t happen until, well, they’re settling our estate. I’ll add that as a codicil to my will: “All the miscellaneous crap in the basement and the garage I leave to Trash Can Willy and his crew, who can dispose of it as he sees fit.”
There are various household jobs I intended to do as well. I planned to repaint the woodwork on the screened porch. Nope, it didn’t happen, although in a burst of energy, I did scrub it down pretty well so you can see the original color. Layers of mold and grime are gone. Betsy’s room, which now reverts to “my study” was due for a repainting as well after her furniture and other possessions were gone. That didn’t happen either. You know, the walls don’t look to bad. That’s the story with which I’m going. I always feel a bit, shall we say, underproductive, because my in-laws are compulsive painters. They’re always painting something or having it painted. A lot at their cottage at the lake. The outside this year was due, so next year, probably the inside as that hasn’t had a coat of paint in months. Then, there will be various painting projects at their condo too. I feel guilty and somehow negligent, because we have rooms here that I painted when we moved in, in 2001, and haven’t done much with since then.
I had to replace a plank on the pergola by the back door. I did that quite a while ago, and it needs to be re-stained. But I used pressure-treated lumber, so it needed to “cure”. And when it was ready, I wasn’t. It was just too hot to work outside. Which was also my garden excuse. I fully blame climate change for my inactivity. New England is warming up, and I simply can’t risk sunstroke, or ticks. The potential for harm is just too great. On the plus side, though, I’ve caught up on my summer reading and napping. All to the good. And I should let you all know that I purchased what I’m sure will be the winning ticket for that massive lottery this weekend. After I’ve met with our team of accountants and financial planners, I’ll fill you all in on the joys of . . . . Perhaps providing a bit of lost revenue to PBS, or you’ll see Her Ladyship and myself chatting with David on an upcoming episode of “My Lottery Dream Home”. Yes, next week’s blog will probably be titled, “Who Wants to be a Millionaire?”
But back to business. Labor Day weekend – it’s that boot in the rear that reminds us that summer is over. School’s starting, or for most, has already started, and it’s time to get serious. No more splashing in the pool. Back off those trips to the beach, although we’re in hurricane season and the frothy oceans and riptides are dangerous anyway. Unlike other holidays, have you ever noticed that there are no official Labor Day colors? Ever notice that the biggies have a color scheme? Christmas is red and green, although some people keep trying to inject blue and silver into the decorating. Thanksgiving is home to earth tones – browns, and oranges. Easter is all bubbly with pinks and pastels. Nope, Labor Day definitely loses out in the color department. Too late for green grass, too early for fall foliage. Here are a few possibilities that might work. Mustard yellow or relish green. Maybe even potato salad beige. None, however, have taken hold. So, wear your shorts and flip flops for the last time, throw the last of the hot dogs on the grill and call it a weekend. Enjoy your pumpkin lattes, for they’ll be gone by early October.
I'm Thinking...No! 