Yesterday and today it was 85 degrees on the mid-coast of Maine. Yesterday I wore jeans to church and I was hot. We came home to watch football, eat lasagna, and pop popcorn, but we had to turn on the A/C, which we miraculously have not yet put away for the season. It was a weird, late September day. (By the way, don't tell my mom I wore jeans to church.)
It happened again today, but I was smart enough not to wear jeans. A friend and I drove to Portland together to run errands, and we stopped at Chipotle for lunch. We sat outside. Wearing tank tops. And then we drove all around town with the sunroof open. By the afternoon, we had to turn on the A/C in the car - yes, it was THAT warm.
I have mixed feelings about this.
Every year, we in Maine squeeze as much out of summer as we possibly can. We are very frugal about our summer and we don't let any of it go to waste. But when September arrives, and with it the cooler temperatures, changing leaves, fall breezes, and school, we resign ourselves to the fact that summer has once again left us until next June. Or maybe July, as is often the case.
When summer is over, we are melancholy for a few days, and then we move on. There is work to be done. firewood to stack, gardens to harvest, leaves to rake, apple pies to make, sweaters and jeans to wear. Before we know it, we're enjoying the crisp, fall air, and summer is a distant memory.
And then... it's 85 degrees on September 26. It's as if my best friend moved far away; we had the farewell party, we said our good-byes, we cried, we hugged, we made promises to visit, we cried some more, and then we waved until she was down the road and out of sight. And then a couple of days later, there she was, just hanging out in my back yard as if nothing ever happened.
While I thoroughly enjoyed the incredibly beautiful weather today, and was thankful to get to be out in it, a few times I couldn't help but think...
"But I already told summer good-bye."
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