It was quite warm earlier today. It got up into the mid-80's, and for a while, we had the air conditioning on. It was sunny (for the most part), with a few scattered clouds, and some brief, denser cloud coverage mid-afternoon. On the whole, it was a really nice day outside.
Days like this make me feel a small-but-significant sense of sadness. It's not so much the day itself that makes me feel sad, it's the knowledge that these days are soon to be a thing of the past. It's September. Soon, the leaves will be falling off the trees, we'll be bundling up just to go outside, and it will be getting dark late-afternoon. Summer is (technically) officially over.
The warm days are behind us. Sure, there might be another one or two as the months wear on, but by then they will have become the exception instead of the rule. My dad and I were talking about this last week over some slices of cantaloupe. We talked about the passing of one season into the next, about the warm days gone by, and about how the time of cantaloupe was nearly over. Indeed, that this would probably be the last cantaloupe of the season (it wasn't; another was purchased yesterday and is currently being held in cold storage). It takes warmth for a cantaloupe to grow and ripen and sweeten, and it takes sunlight. Both those things will be in short supply soon enough.
Why do days such as these make me feel sad? They remind me that some things lost can never be reclaimed. They live on only in our memories.
I would like to close with the obvious-but-obligatory "Game of Thrones" reference. Winter is coming. (It's still a way off, but it is still coming.)
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