Today, I sat in my fishing buddy's small rowboat, drifting on the surface of the Walkill River, leaned back, and felt so content I nearly fell asleep. I opened my eyes, in awe of a gorgeous cotton candy-colored sky moving along like a painting. One tiny little detail I noticed: the sun was beginning to set.
No, literally. It's been setting earlier. I wasn't being overdramatic, y'all know me. I'm only like that when I'm very serious.
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August is such a melancholy month. It'll probably take on a new layer of melancholy for me, seeing as I'm usually preparing to go back to school. Nope, not this year! Gets you thinking, doesn't it? Don't worry, this isn't me discussing my education departure, you've heard enough of that from me...for now. I'll probably do something come September when I'm struggling for an idea at 11:40 and decide to pick up on that thread.
Why does the end of summer come with an underlying sadness? I mean, who doesn't love fall? Warm leaves! Gentle winds! Ideal temperatures for enjoying anything outside! And the promise of change - it's hard not to be romantic about the upcoming season. Hell, it's my favorite one of 'em all.
Is it because here, we're reminded that things do end, from nature herself? The sun sets, leaves die, the days grow short, and the world grows colder. Is there any more of a bitter reminder than that of our environment? Sure, it's cyclical, but cycles do include endings no matter what. Look at a tree as it sheds its leaves and becomes nothing but a structure of bark and empty branches. If you listen quietly on a crisp autumn night, you can almost hear the world whisper "See you soon." Or have I been drinking too many hard ciders? Everything pops to vibrant life in summer, it seems. Just the word itself suggests endless fun.
Is it because summer has always been the promise of adventure, the time where we can break free of most commitments, and leap into voyages all over? September is often synonymous with the end of fun, as school begins and beaches close. It's easy to feel invulnerable, running through fields and jumping into water with no visible sign of nightfall. You can climb a mountain and feel the sun beat your chest, a challenge to conquer all you see.
Is it because perhaps scientifically (I'm totally spitballing here) the approach of coldness calms us down? Our bodies don't feel so jumped up with tremendous heat, and so our more rational, calmer sides take over? We know winter is around the corner, and so we begin to relax as we know it won't be long until we're trudging through blizzards. That could be it!
Who knows? It could be something bigger and cosmic, some sort of mystic pull we feel. Likened to the oft misery of January, or the elated joy of June. Could those zodiac folks be onto something?
Or, could just be the fact that at this point, everyone's like, really tired of humidity and sweatiness. Dude, I can't wait not to sweat. I mean, I will, cause I'm naturally sweaty, but still.
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