Changing seasons

During the summer, when I'd go out on the porch to read after my morning ab-lutions (meditation, sit-ups, and push-ups), there would generally be a lot of traffic through the path and around the lake. The usual motley assortment of runners and joggers. Jamie or Caroline out walking their collie mix puppy Opey. Often a grandmother with her curly-headed grandson and his low-slung trike. On occasion a pair of people with one of them practicing kickboxing out by the lake. Thud thud thud as she kicked the pad held by her partner.

As the school year has kicked back into gear and the heat has died back (reducing the incentive to get out really early) they have abated somewhat and I find myself missing them, though it's a little easier to concentrate on my reading. Perhaps its just my slight melancholy at Natalie moving back to New Haven.

But also there's the fact that I find myself a little apprehensive at the new season rushing down upon us. Normally autumn is the time of new beginnings as kids go into new classes and as everybody comes back from summer and recounts their exploits. The social cycle heats up as everybody is out raising money for this that and also the other and as street and music fairs crank up so people can preen and hawk their wares. And everything is accelerated because the days are both packed with more activities and growing shorter by the day as we move towards the equinox and ultimately the solstice.

This year, only the days will grow shorter. We can socialize a little more, we have learned how to do so and our initial apprehension about touching things and hand-sanitizing after every breath has calmed down a little, but we can't really open the floodgates too wide.

The early phases of the pandemic happened while -- in the northern hemisphere at least -- the days were growing longer. Now they are visibly not. We'll get through it, it just won't be but so fun.

Fortunately mankind has created an inexhaustible store of content to consume. We just have to be creative.