Overnight, poof! In the snap of a finger, the snap of a leafless twig, a season has departed.
We walked home from the Upper East Side late night before last, the pavement dark but glistening from the day’s drizzle. It was warm, almost 70 degrees, warm enough to dally; we stopped and chatted a long while with a carriage driver and fed carrots to his horse.
This morning, 40 degrees! Whipping wind, not just brisk but cold! Time to be serious about coats, scarves, gloves. Time to say goodbye to the russets and golds of autumn. Time to put our heads down and be brave in greeting the leaden pre-winter.
I am inconsolable. It’s not the cold, it’s the sense of loss. Fall used to be my favorite season. But now I am old and I have begun to understand all too well how fleeting, how achingly ephemeral are the beauty of summer and autumn, of youth, of cheer. It will all turn gray and we must be brave.
Farewell to another golden season.
“And the colors are much brighter now
It’s like they really want to tell the truth
we give our testimony to the end of the summer
It’s the end of the summer,
You can spin the light to gold.”
— Dar Williams/”End of the Summer”