End of Summer Blues

I haven't posted much recently. The days seem to go by much too fast, things to do piling up faster than I can wade through them. I didn't use my solar oven near as much as I had wanted to. Nor did we barbecue more than a handful of times this summer. We were busier with our music than we've been in a few years, so we spent some time traveling and performing, which was nice. Although I have to admit to not recovering as fast as I used to. Now I spend several days after each trip feeling utterly exhausted, trying to recover from so much driving and fast food and not sleeping in my own bed.

Anyway, I woke up this morning with that dreaded feeling that, with Labor Day fast approaching, summer was once again over. I suppose it's a holdover feeling from my school days (can you still feel this way after being out of school for 35 years?) when the end of summer meant an end to carefree days and a return to homework and too many rules and too much pressure to figure out what you want to be/do when you "grow up." But I'm 57 now and presumably grown up (my family might argue the point!) and my stomach still sinks at the end of August. If I was asked to write an essay on what I did last summer (that essay always scared me, afraid my summer wasn't near as exciting as that of my classmates), I would have to say not enough. Yes, we had some wonderful shows and loads of fun, but there was so much more I had wanted to do. I had wanted to: use the solar oven on as many days as possible; post more often; finish my Reiki course finally; get back to making my own pasta; make some gourd birdhouses; make more copper jewelry; write in a journal daily; set aside some time each morning for meditation; lose more weight; and practice my instruments more often. Despite good intentions, I'm pretty sure I failed on all of those.

The garden still looks good, though, thanks to Rick's diligent care. We have a good amount of tomatoes and beans. Yesterday he planted more arugula and lettuce and mustard greens for a fall (and even winter) crop. We have to drag the dehydrator up and start drying all the excess so we can have a store of vegetables for the winter. It won't be long before he plants the garlic. We filled our oil tank. We filled our propane tank. The dandelion wine is still fermenting, as is the mead. It's a busy time. And in that busy-ness is a sense of well being, knowing that we're okay. We'll be warm, we'll eat well, this winter.

And maybe, just maybe, I'll learn to knit socks this winter. It's on my never-ending to-do list. So, despite that sinking end-of-summer-back-to-school feeling, there is so much possibility, too. And that possibility gives me hope.