It’s officially autumn. While I can still walk out the door in a tee shirt and shorts during the day, the mornings and evenings are now jacket and jeans weather. More than one tree in the neighborhood has begun to change color. The NFL is in high gear. The newness of the school year has melted away, replaced by the routines that will dominate the next nine months.
Autumn is a fine season. It may be my second favorite season.
But it is not summer.
For the first few weeks of September, even as I return to the classroom and resume teaching, I can convince myself that the last vestiges of summer remain. I can still sneak in moments during the day and week that remind me of the warm and glorious months that we have just left behind.
That pretending is no more. This is autumn. Another summer has passed.
I’ve been saving these photos for this day. I’ve been saving them for autumn’s arrival. They remind me of my joyous past and what will come again.