Friday, September 01, 2006
"The Ache of Summer"
Passages - 2006
Summer is coming to an end. Three weeks before the autumnal equinox, the signs of change are creeping in. The mornings are dark when I wake up and there is that different feeling when I step out of the door -- the air is cooler and the sky looks different. The late Philip Hamburger described it amazingly well in a few words.
A piercing blue sky, gentle ocean breeze, low humidity, clean air. But what Seamus Heaney has called "the ache of summer" is increasingly palpable. Darkness will clamp down earlier and more suddenly this evening--one moment a rich, haunting Maxfield Parrish blue, the next pitch-black and night. Hard to face, but wouldn't you know, summer is ending and it is time for memories...Night is falling. There is a chill in the air. Winter will come. And go. |
The beach house at Pajaro Dunes
©Musafir
One for Christmas Card 2006?
© www.eliz-art.comSky is the Limit
© www.eliz-art.comSand Castle Builders
© www.eliz-art.comChildren on the beach
© www.eliz-art.com
Father and daughters
© www.eliz-art.comMargarita time
© JHLAs in past years, I went away to the coast to spend a week with friends. Pajaro Dunes is only 50 miles away but in summer it feels like a different world. Much cooler and on most days the sun does not emerge until late afternoon. That did not dampen our spirits. We walked on the beach; the children froliced; watched dolphins and shore birds. Some played tennis while others went out for runs along the shore. When the tides came in the sound of the waves crashing could be heard from the beach house. There were interesting books, good music and conversation. We had great meals accompanied by copious amounts of wine. The days went by too quickly and it was time to return to the valley.
Poet's Corner
Say Summer/For My Mother I could give it back to you, perhaps in a season, say summer. I could give you leaf back, green grass, sky full of rain, root that won't dig deeper, the names called out just before sundown: Linda back, Susy back, Carolyn. I could give you back supper on the porch or the room without a breath of fresh air, back the little tears in the heat, the hot sleep on the kitchen floor, back the talk in the great dark, the voices low on the lawn so the children can't hear, say summer, say father, say mother: Ruth and Mary and Esther, names in a book, names I remember -- I could give you back this name, and back the breath to say it with -- we all know we'll die of our children -- back the tree bent over the water, back the sun burning down, back the witness back each morning. ---Stanley Plumly Washington Post: Robert Pinsky - Poet's Choice |
