The Ghosts of Summer

Across the Fence #409

The ghosts of summer glide slowly past my window, as I sit in the comfort of our home and look out upon the darkness of the night. I can’t see them, but I know they linger out there in the dark, before they take flight, leaving only the full September moon, suspended in a cloudless sky, to light their way as they journey south.

There’s a chill in the air. Overnight I’ve gone from t-shirt and shorts to sweatshirt and long pants. The early chill is the point man, reminding us that the main force will soon be arriving. Where did summer go? Did the early chill drive summer out, leaving only the ghostly memories behind? I blinked, and when I opened my eyes, streaks of yellow and gold had replaced the deep shades of green among the trees. The brilliance of wildflowers had faded and left behind withered remnants of what had been. The countryside is in a state of transition from summer to fall. All this happened in the blink of an eye. How did summer disappear so fast? It seems like it just arrived yesterday. But I blinked and it was gone.

Now I see only the ghostly images of the summer that was. Before I blinked, birds of all kinds descended on our bird feeders. They drank and bathed in the water of our birdbath on a daily basis. There was always activity. Now all is quiet. The birds have been flocking together, preparing for the long journey south. The feeder hangs unused, waiting for the winter birds to arrive.  

Once again I’ve heard the wonderful honking of the geese as they pass overhead. I’ll never tire of that sound. Each year, that haunting sound ignites a restlessness, deep within my being. Apparitions from my evolutionary past rise to the surface and I want to take wing and follow them. Maybe we’re meant to head south for the winter, instead of burrowing into our northern shelters and riding out the long winter that awaits us. That chill in the air reminds me that summer is lying on it’s deathbed and very soon, only the ghosts of summer will linger in our memory. 

The summers seem to pass so quickly, leaving only ghostly images behind: The countryside turning many shades of green and filling out; the smell of new-mown hay; the sound of water gurgling over the rocks in a stream as you try to outsmart a trout; corn fields turning green and reaching more than knee-high by the 4^th of July; fireworks filling the air; the sound of a bat making contact with a baseball; the feel of the cool grass as you stretch out on it in the cool shade of a maple tree; the wonderful sound of a windmill pumping water on a hot day, if you can find one to listen to; the soothing sound of the breeze as it ripples through the leaves of the trees; the sight of cows as they make their way along a cow path, heading toward the pasture; a field of oats waving in the breeze like waves on an ocean; driving along a country road with a canopy of green over you, soothing you with welcome shade on a hot, humid day; bugs that envelop and “bug” you the minute you step outside; smearing yourself with Absorbine Jr. so you can venture outside; the sound of crickets and tree frogs serenading you with their nightly concerts; fireflies lighting up the dark country nights; watching the glowing embers in the bottom of the firepit on a quiet evening; watching dark thunderclouds coming across the prairie; watching lightning dance across the sky in the distance and light up a dark night; sitting on the deck with a cup of coffee, listening to the sounds of silence, the wind gently moving the leaves of the trees, and birds announcing the beginning of a new day; the sound of rain gently beating on the roof; the sound of a thunderstorm as the lightning flashes, thunder crashes, and the rain beats against the windows; and the sound of birds singing in the trees after the storm has passed, as they celebrate the many moods of summer.

We all have our own ghostly images of summer, etched in our memories. Just as we all grow older and eventually leave this life, summer has moved on, making way for a new season in our lives. The chill of fall has arrived and now the ghosts of summer are all we are left with. They are not to be feared, but ones we can embrace as we remember the summer that was. It just seems to me that the summers disappear faster the older I get. It’s gone in that blink of an eye that I mentioned. 

Now we begin the days of fall; that all too brief period of time, when the countryside is alive with color, and we love to spend the days outside. I wish fall could last as long as winter seems to be with us, but it passes much too quickly. We barely have time to say our goodbyes to the ghosts of summer before the ghosts of fall arrive.

Take some time to sit back, reflect on the summer that was, and enjoy the ghosts of summer that you encounter.  

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