I realized with more of a jolt than I'd thought possible this past Wednesday evening that summer 2013 is rapidly disappearing in the rear-view of this ever increasingly fast sports coupe of a life I'm leading.
And except for the characterization of my stay here on the orb as a 'sports coupe' that's a sadly straightforward characterization of who I am.
For most of this summer, as was the case last year, I trooped down to the meeting of the rivers, the Shetucket, Thames and Yantic, to Howard T. Brown Park at the Norwich Harbor to sample local bands, visit with neighbors, take in the summer evenings and enjoy life.
It hasn't gone on forever-actually this year's concert series, Rock the Docks (we bought shirts so named last night, my daughter and I, for all three of us, to include my wife/her mom who never goes because I walk too fast, she insists) just started the week after the 4th of July holiday but I confess to being shocked to discover it was over for this summer already on Wednesday.
Admittedly, already is a relative term. If you were the organizer or one of the sponsors of the concerts, you may have a very different attitude on the end of the season, I suspect, but for me, the summers seem to get shorter and the winters colder every year and there's already a feeling of frost in the air when I leave for work at oh-bright-early that I find disquieting because I know what happens next.
And in this case knowledge is NOT power.
Not helping, by any means, were the torrential rains with peals of thunder and flashes of lightning we had yesterday- a sort of meteorological exclamation point on what had been a sedate and somewhat desultory discussion about the
dwindling down of the summer.
Exactly thirty days from now, summer ends. In ten days, says the calendar, it's Labor Day and after that, no more wearing white at least to work until after Easter, I think. The fall will be here in an eye blink followed by Thanksgiving and then the long, cold, dark days of winter.
But then spring returns followed by summer. But for this year in this place, Summer's Almost Gone.
-bill kenny
Ramblings of a badly aged Baby Boomer who went from Rebel Without a Cause to Bozo Without a Clue in, seemingly, the same afternoon.
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