Here where I live, schools re-open their doors tomorrow, the day after Labor Day. Just one other old-fashioned thing here in New York state (I hope my blog has changed some of your minds about our state. Much of New York is lovely old farmland peopled with lovely old-fashioned folks. Honest.)
And so tomorrow--for me--Autumn begins. I like a long, extended Autumn so I start mine early, always on the first day of school. You can do that if you wish, tweak calendars a bit... Some people say they are individualists who don't follow crowds, but still, I watch them follow calendars, something I veer from as much as I can.
An amazing time of year, September... Today I watered a couple orchard trees then stood out in my garden and ate warm, meaty cherry tomatoes. I mowed the lawn in an autumn slant of light and just 78 degrees... and then waited for Bob The Milkman who brought orange sherbet!
I painted bookshelves upstairs this morning, white, so they brightened the 'Reading Room' up there (all that dark paneling...bother...). And painted the window trim white, too, all the hours listening to The Waltons, episode after sappy, sentimental episode, crying in all the same places.
What a day, this day! Even though Tom worked nightshift and slept all afternoon and we couldn't have a picnic like the whole rest of the Country (well, Louisiana people are having no picnics either and I've been praying for them since early morning)... still, my first Labor Day down on the farm was magical. What else do you call labor which feels more like play than work? If this isn't real, please don't tell me. Sometimes I wonder-- am I here or do I just believe I am here?
You've never seen our upstairs Reading Room--and because it is currently so dreadful--I will show you only a corner:
That's McCartney on the chair. She and Lennon sleep there all day and then play noisily outside of our bedroom door all night.