September is a beginning and an end all at once
The breezes taste
Of apple peel.
The air is full
Of smells to feel-
Ripe fruit, old footballs,
Burning brush,
New books, erasers,
Chalk, and such.
The bee, his hive,
Well-honeyed hum,
And Mother cuts
Chrysanthemums.
Like plates washed clean
With suds, the days
Are polished with
A morning haze. - John Updike, September
I wonder if September will ever arrive without making me long for academia or want to head to somewhere with orchards full of apples. I suppose the positive things we spend a majority of our childhood doing (learning, reading, being surrounded by trees and apples) never leave us. Fortunately I have a new autumn tradition of going out to the camp at Queechy Lake with Joe for our anniversary, with lots of reading, kayaking, playing with the dog, buying fruit at farmer's markets, and generally enjoying this wonderful liminal time of year that always stands out as the best time of year until May arrives, and then the opposite declaration occurs.
Soon it will be time to be "rugged up in coarse woolen jumpers" (a quote from my friend Ryan that I think of every time I put on a sweater.)
Of apple peel.
The air is full
Of smells to feel-
Ripe fruit, old footballs,
Burning brush,
New books, erasers,
Chalk, and such.
The bee, his hive,
Well-honeyed hum,
And Mother cuts
Chrysanthemums.
Like plates washed clean
With suds, the days
Are polished with
A morning haze. - John Updike, September
I wonder if September will ever arrive without making me long for academia or want to head to somewhere with orchards full of apples. I suppose the positive things we spend a majority of our childhood doing (learning, reading, being surrounded by trees and apples) never leave us. Fortunately I have a new autumn tradition of going out to the camp at Queechy Lake with Joe for our anniversary, with lots of reading, kayaking, playing with the dog, buying fruit at farmer's markets, and generally enjoying this wonderful liminal time of year that always stands out as the best time of year until May arrives, and then the opposite declaration occurs.
Soon it will be time to be "rugged up in coarse woolen jumpers" (a quote from my friend Ryan that I think of every time I put on a sweater.)