A Labored Day
And so by a mark on the calender Summer ends and Fall begins . . . most children are back in school now, summer vacations have mostly ended and the drudgery of the return to work (the Grind, the daily chore) . . . already on the shelves are masks of goblins, ghouls and characters galore . . . and thoughts of bags full of candy fill children everywhere . . . and without much fanfare you can find Thanksgiving (A Holiday that has fallen from fashion at the moment, because it has become offensive to some, sadly the meaning is lost to most) items there as well.
What is the Official end of Summer and what is the real end of Summer? that was the Question I woke with today.
Labor Day is just a symbolic end to summer. Traditionally fall begins at the equinox, the time when the sun crosses the plane of the earth’s equator. The spring, or vernal, equinox occurs around March 21, and the fall, or autumnal, equinox occurs around September 22 . . .
Fall, the time of harvest, when on the autumn equinox both day and night are the same length of time . . . it is a time of gathering, a time of feast, it is this time I have chosen to once again get married . . . although not exactly on the equinox but just a few days before.
Like this time I too have reached the autumn of my life, it is an exciting time.
I live in a part of the country where sadly there is no change of seasons, it is either green or brown, hot or cold . . . no change of colors like the North or East . . . just sometimes endless brown. I sit now and watch, I have that kind of time, I watch the world rush by . . . all in a mad rush . . . and I, mark time.
Everyone seems busy, like worker ants . . . and all I see is a mad rush, everyone seems to have no time, even on this Holiday, Labor Day . . . no one has the time, to slow down, take a breath, enjoy life . . . it is just another day of labor another mark on the paper to show the passing of time. . .
Happy Labor day, I am still alive, I no longer am part of a workforce, no longer an ant marching in step with time. I am a relic, growing dusty, slowing down in time. I am outside now I have reached the autumn equinox of my life. I can say this though, don’t count me out, I may be out of step with everyone’s mad rush to catch up with old father time . . . I’ll still be smiling when you pass me by, know this I have stopped to smell the roses, catch the sights and the moments, cherish each glimpse of time . . . do you hear it, the faint click of my camera, as I capture a moment of passing time.
So have fun all you ant on the Holiday called Labor Day . . . go on now . . quickly, in lockstep . . . see if you can catch up to father time, and yes keep blinking and missing the moments . . . don’t stop, don’t slow down . . . it’s to late you’ve missed it as you spin on your merry go round . . . I’ve already got it anyway, that big brass ring, I’ll relax in my rocking chair and enjoy the passing of time.
Click . . . Click . . .
Down by the Sea