Labor Day, as we all know, is the death knell for summer. Can someone please explain why that’s an occasion to celebrate? What is wrong with people? We shouldn’t be celebrating, we should be mourning the loss of a dearly beloved and all too short season. Besides, summer isn’t dead yet, so let’s stop shoving it toward the graveyard. There’s still plenty of life in these waning days of sunshine.
What’s so great about autumn, anyway? Is it the leaves? Granted, they turn gorgeous, eye-popping colors for, what?, a week? Then they fall off the trees and we spend hours raking them into tall, brittle piles of brown and stuffing them into bags. Those bags eventually get dragged to the curb and uglify the landscape for days. The blisters caused by all that raking will last significantly longer.
Well, here’s a heads-up: the falling leaves aren’t confetti, they’re summer’s teardrops. They’re also ghastly precursors of the much dreaded snowflake, nature’s scourge, welcoming us to winter’s anteroom. Bonfires and hot chocolate are small compensation for the damp, blustery, gloomy conditions we’ll soon be forced to endure.
Static electricity, that shocking little phenomenon, will make a roaring comeback, as will hat hair and chapped lips and a pasty, sickly pallor. The list of downsides is very, very, very, very long: snowdrifts, windshield scraping, treacherous footing, icicles, a barren, joyless landscape … Is that what you’re pining for? Really?
Well, snap out of it. Call off the deathwatch and let’s live the daylights out of every last minute of summer. Cowabunga!
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