So the Rose of Sharon is in bloom, a sure sign that summer is at its peak. I looked out the window on Friday and noticed that the first couple of mauvey-pink flowers had just begun to open. There was a small grove of these pretty hibiscus shrubs at the old house as well, and I remember every August having the same bittersweet feeling that I have now whenever I looked at the blooms. What makes me sad is the knowledge that Summer’s days are numbered and Autumn is hard upon its heels.
I was never particularly eager for summer’s end like most of the other mothers were. I always found it incredibly wrenching when the kids had to go back to school because the house would feel all together too empty. And even though we no longer endure the back-to-school ritual, those old friends of mine, Mr. Melancholy and Miss Wistful, are on their way to visit me again.
When summer opens, I see how fast it matures, and fear it will be short; but after the heats of July and August, I am reconciled, like one who has had his swing, to the cool of Autumn. ~Ralph Waldo Emerson