Tuesday, September 3, 2013

September


As Sleigh Bells seem in summer
Or Bees, at Christmas show --
So fairy -- so fictitious
The individuals do
Repealed from observation --
A Party that we knew --
More distant in an instant
Than Dawn in Timbuctoo.
~ Emily Dickinson



It is has been September for three days now. Since my summer began in March (which is when temperatures in Phoenix start to hit 80) I believe I have had above and beyond my fair share of this season. I find it most illogical that the autumn equinox is at the end of September. It seems hardly fair– September bespeaks the crunchy tang of apples, the tinge of gold brightening the trees, cool nights and crisp mornings, that moment when you realize that you can pull out your favorite sweater from last year and put it on. The sky ought to get higher up and farther away– a more distant blue, as the earth, weary of the sun's company, tilts away. This is what September means, which is why it is very aggravating to wake up in September and find that I still have three weeks of summer to go and no apparent let-up in South Carolina's heat or humidity.

My birthday is in September, too (fortunately, on the other side of the autumn equinox! I do so love having a fall birthday) and so it always seems as though the weather owes me that shift which I desire.

Sigh.

But if we Julian-calendar-abiding members of Western Civilization want to go on with our summer weather for three weeks more, then I propose that we shift the calendar three weeks backward– allow September 1st to fall on Fall, so that at least by the end of that magic-spicy-golden-sounding month we'll have some hope of putting our summer shorts and sundresses away for the year. Of course, that would make my birthday September 3rd (or 4th, depending on if the present equinox is on the 21st or 22nd) but I would be willing to make that change.


This is what I want to wake up to in September. 

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