Growing up in eastern Canada, school never started til after Labour Day weekend (the first weekend in September for our non-North American muses). So that last weekend of vacation was our chance to cling to summer before retreating inside to desks and books until spring. But I loved the change of season. Summers were hot and humid where I grew up and autumn was all golden light and crisp, clear blue skies and crunchy leaves beneath my feet. And although I embraced the transition, there was always that delicious sense of melancholy as one season ended and another began.
The days grow shorter and an after school visit to the park with my daughter resulted in just a few moments of sunshine before the sun dipped behind the trees, where a few weeks before it would have stayed bright until past dinnertime. The swings and monkey bars quiet.
Sam's image of laundry hanging outside to dry evoked the same feeling for me - clothes sun-bleached and fragrant in the last days of summer as she "looks out on a world still green, but fading, rusting, muting much too fast."
Welcome, golden light of autumn.
september days by sam brightwell