I know that we celebrate the arrival of the new year in January, but that has never felt right to me. I’ve said it before, I’ll say it again, the Tuesday after Labour Day feels like the beginning of a brand new year to me. Around here today marks the end of summer, the first day of school and a shift from the easy, laid back attitude of summer to the more efficient, straightforward call of the fall. Even the weather agrees today – it’s time to settle down and get back to business.
I love summer best. I look forward to the heat, the slower speeds, dinner in the backyard, sitting under the stars and the twinkle lights on the patio, nursing drinks into the wee hours with friends, family and music. I look forward to lakes, and the woods and canoes and the cottage and this summer I had a little of all of those things, but it still felt like summer never really "took." I blame grief for that, and trying to re-create a world that doesn’t have Tupp in it. (At first I typed "didn’t" and then remembered that this is permanent, and made the correction.) We’re faring ok, as a family, and I’m almost ok with chalking this summer up to a learning curve, and it makes the autumn even more welcome.
I feel like with this day, we’re turning over a leaf, probably one of the ones that fell off the backyard tree this morning. The tree knows what’s up. It’s time. Time to settle down, time to move into a different phase, cozy up the house for the long winter, and get out the yarn. Time to start a baby blanket.
I’ve got the swatch, I’ve done the math, and I’ve begun. I’m taking a cue from the time of year, and I’m settling into it.