Them Summer Days

Summer's end.  It seemed to fly by, didn't it?  Even through the weirdness and the horror?  I just looked back through my blog at the past three months.  I'm glad I have written it.  I've gifted you some gems beginning with a long night out with the gymroids and the night of the Malaysian/Cuban wedding.  Yup.  That was the beginning of summer.  And the music?  Oh, my. . . the music.  

All in all, I think I've driven most readers away.  It was a rough summer, too, of vivid dreams and nightmares and many of the same old complaints.  But, as you know, summer in the sunny south is much different than up there in Dick and Jane America.  A southern summer can be brutal.  

I'd have to say, however, we've skated through fairly well.  

So how to celebrate the last day of summer?

Food!  I think I'll enjoy the summer's harvest.  I'll diffuse oils of the summer's fragrance and fill the house with the end of summer's flowers.  Maybe I'll hop up to the frozen ice place outside the crazy plant and houseware shop, and I think I'd love a some good fish tacos.  Whatever I do, I want to overwhelm my senses.  

"For summer's lease hath all too short a date."

Have you written your summer daybook?  If not, much will be lost to you.  Oh, you will remember some of the big things here and there, but there is so much that will be forever forgotten.  Maybe, however, that is a good thing.  Who wants to remember the doldrums and depressions, the sad days and hopeless nights?  I do, but I'm a freak about so many things.  

Have I told you about yesterday?  Ha!  Nothing happened but the daily rituals.  

"Rituals?" you query.  "Don't you mean habits?"

No my friend.  Habits are performed without consciousness.  Rituals have risen above.  They are conscious and purposeful things that are elevated into the "spiritual realm."

"You don't believe in the spiritual." 

Someday I might.  I do believe highly in the emotional, and that is certainly the borderland between rational thought and something else.  That's why I like to end with music.  It transcends the intellect.

"Now you're talking spooky talk, that's what you're doing." 

Ha!

So. . . let me end this post with a summer song that begins with spring and ends with fall.  It is a damn good one, too, even though I'm certain I've posted it before.  

End of the spring
And here she comes back
Hi, hi, hi, hi there
Them summer days

First of the fall
And then she goes back
Bye, bye, bye, bye there
Them summer days
Those summer days

 

Celebrate!