TRACKING TIME
Sipping a glass of wine back lit by sun dappled pampas grass flowing in the afternoon breeze, Jacque said "The cool thing about California is that after labor day, summer keeps going."
As another ex pat Midwesterner, her observation is born of many years when a kind of gnawing dread would sneak in on the heels of labor day, summer's last hurrah. Soon autumn would briefly glorify nature with color and then as leaves become crisp detritus, temperatures drop, skies gray and winter's agony looms.
So maybe those of us who flee for the sunnier climes are weather wimps or looking for the prolonged adolescence of endless summer. But it feels good. And it looks good too like an afternoon at the beach, to kiss summer good bye and to say hello the special year.
Notes on Sage living proof follow below.
Days continue to shorten and we observe summer's slide in the cycles and habits of the considerable wildlife that live from the Pacific into the Santa Lucia mountains.
We marveled at the playfulness of a pod of Humpback whales, jetting sprays, breaching and showing their backs and tails in a late summer migration.
The fewer filters between us and nature, the more we see and feel the interaction, the greater the molecular impact on our minds, bodies and heart and soul.
Out here on the central coast it's also the last hurrah, but with a twist! After labor day when schools are in session, the tourists thin out, traffic quiets, restaurants and shops are again for locals. Tennis courts and beaches are back to normal.
But I've come to think of September as the first of the special year. US Open tennis and college football fills September and October, along with the NFL and autumn colors. Then we are into basketball and the holiday season and the festivities to the end of the year. Back in the Midwest when I began to put up storm windows or Hatteras shutters and saw the girls off to school, I thought of the year ending with summer. Then I proscribed the special year-September to December 31. With more of those seasons behind me than ahead, I take great comfort in Jacque's assessment, "summer keeps going."
I'm not alone as the 102 year old theatre director throwing kisses from his Rolls Royce, or the 91 year old director of our annual Pinedorado, or the late 80 somethings who volunteered or marched in the miles long parade can attest after their decade's long celebration of Cambria's labor day weekend, or as the 70 and 80 year old surfers, lawn bowlers, pickle ball and tennis players, bikers, hikers, birdwatchers and gardeners can attest, the endless summer continues.
See you down the trail.
