Fall is official. I’m back from an elder care tour and the trees are flirting with color. The breeze is sweatshirt-cool and I’m thinking of seasonal food. Heading to the orchard today, for new apples and hopefully last peaches and plums. I’m not ready to let summer go. There will surely be more heat and the tomatoes are begging to be sauced or bathed in oil and slow roasted. But it’s changing. We’re in the in-between.
The day-to-day often feels rote and boring, making it seem like nothing much has happened, but the long view of this summer tells another story.
The mower died and the drought came, so we did nothing. Watched the yard brown until the late deluge, and then waded through the thick to the mailbox. Wrestled the jungle at the door. It looks like no one lives here anymore.
I bought some clothes and too many books. I swam in the lake, even after seeing a snake. I saw doctors and a dentist. I helped my dad through surgery (twice!) and played with my mom’s new puppy. I dined once on a lovely lakeside terrace, and again at a picnic table by a methadone clinic. I ate lobster and bushels of fresh, local fruit. I drank a big bottle of gin (with help and over months, settle down). We finally got an attractive light fixture for the laundry room, after 25 years of a bare bulb. A person from my deep past visited and I made no new friends.
My daughter, the baby, is gone. She’s moved to the west coast, a whole country away. There is joy in this transition, but I am tender. Still processing.
“How was your summer?,” the dentist asked as my mouth was filled with cotton and a big numbing swab. I tried to grunt cheerily and lift my eyebrows, listening to the rising gallop of my heart in anticipation of an hour of dental torture.
How was my summer? Here at its end I’m honestly a little punch drunk, humbled by doctors and dentists, pre-and-post-surgery care. Sad at all the leaving and the worrying, but glad for new chapters. The death of the queen is everywhere. I’m not invested in royal watching, but a high profile death brings the subject front and center. As have a handful of frightening diagnoses, for friends, family, and acquaintances, near and far. The elders are getting smaller, needier, thinking and talking about late and last days. This was a summer that reminded me very clearly of my age. And now the season of passing — the yellow and purples are fading, the trees visibly aging. The elders. Time is marching.
I’m only just learning to tuck a tissue in my turned-up sleeve, the way my grandmother did. I need more time.
But! I love autumn and welcome the change. The soups and sweaters, teas and hot toddies. Baking and braising, crisp hikes and light blankets. Pumpkins on porches and head-heavy sunflowers. Hot cereal season — millet mush with a loose egg, 7 grains with maple syrup and a splash of cream. I love the waning outside light and the way the evening house glows with lamps. The color. The season of rest, reflection, and restoration. Let’s do this.
How was your summer?
Things to share:
So sad this morning at the death of Hilary Mantel. A brilliant writer, a fascinating woman. The Assassination of Margaret Thatcher and Giving up the Ghost are waiting on my bedside shelf — past time to pick them up.
My substack is six months old — a half-birthday! 🥳 I wondered what one might do for such a milestone and decided to calm down. Maybe I’ll think of a fun thing at one year. Thanks to all of you wonderful readers who allow me to crowd your mail. Zero inbox is a noble goal, I fight the sea of newsletters daily. I consider it an honor that you let me in.
If you follow me on Twitter, you may have seen me eeking! over my inclusion in Oldster’s link round-up. It has been a cherished goal of mine to get Sari Botton to notice me (such is her esteem in essay publishing circles) and it happened! A happy half-birthday gift. Thanks again to Sari and check out Oldster, if you haven’t. Lots of thoughtful and relevant content for those of us who continue to have birthdays.
Letitia James, the 11th Circuit Court of Appeals, and the J6 committee are giving us reason to hope. May all bad actors get their due.🤞
I’m already making a Christmas food list (is this a crime?) and it includes this and this. Aren’t they gorgeous?
Cheers and happy fall! 🍂
Lisa
I adore your descriptions and enjoyed this very much. I always look forward to reading your musings and work. Thank you.
As for my summer...We here in California have had an excess of precipitation (thank God) this year, ending our drought and loading our fruit trees with bounty. I have only spent 2 summers at my new home and knew there were cherry trees in my backyard, but only because my previous renters told me so. This year there was evidence. It took 5 days of picking and 2 days of pitting, then freezing and gifting everyone I love with cherry cobbler. The rest and best were left for the birds. The neighbors have gifted me with their excess too, nectarines, grapes, figs, plums, and I just finished freezing the peaches. Next will be apples and pomegranates. With all of these fruits landing in my freezer, I expect summer will be with me through the fall and winter. I am grateful.
How was my summer? I'm so glad it's over, truthfully. Too much rain, too much heat, and too many wild people causing wild crime and wild concern. Good riddance.