No two ways about it, folks. These last days of summer glow with a kind of halo both real and imaginary. This summer, whose long days of sunshine easily outspent other recent rainy summers, spread a …
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No two ways about it, folks. These last days of summer glow with a kind of halo both real and imaginary. This summer, whose long days of sunshine easily outspent other recent rainy summers, spread a kind of bronzy effulgence among us. There’s a few wee days left, folks. Just get in the car and drive and look around you. You’ll see women leading troupes of kiddies, everyone wet and bedraggled in flowery blousy dresses or tight swim trunks, strolling home laughing, rubbery sandals plastered to their feet, inner tubes bent over shoulders, straw hats in hand. Overhead the tall trees along Mountain Lake or Pine Grove may be showing the first streaks of autumn but there’s a warm breeze blowing down Pine Grove Road and back home there’s a good meal beckoning behind the flopsy screen door for Mom and the kids and Dad or Mom #2. At this point in such a perfect summer everyone is completely settled and comfy in their skin but also vaguely aware that “Next week is school (or LIFE, which is the same).” Thankfully, there’s one long weekend ahead of all that and school and LIFE is then and this is now: now at the beach or now on the boat or now with a book or a glass of wine in hand floating down the glossy Delaware. And now Oh Look There’s another eagle!
Fall is here. Not officially, by the calendar, of course, but its denominators are everywhere. In the morning at the edge of the garden the fawns of May who dashed in June in giddy circles have lost their spots and Darry do. They batten up. Their coats turn a mature tawny brown. And up in the sky, past midnight when silent falling stars streak past us, the majestic stars of Cassiopeia sail high into the zenith, whispering September.
A time of bursting tomatoes and poignant goodbyes. These are our days of fruition, the very last days of August. A blessed, blessed time, whether you are happy or in grief. Bite into the tomato like you bite into an apple: let the seeds gush between your fingers and let this meaty vegetable of the sun make this moment one of the great summations of your life. We’re going to be dead a very long time. Why not?
An active and curious people, we are doing a lot here in Sullivan and we are proud of it. This coming Saturday, the Smallwood Civic Association (SWCA) will hold its final General Membership meeting at the Association Lodge starting at 10:00 AM (arrive early for coffee and muffins; a Zoom link will be provided by email to absent members).
On Sunday, September 1st, from 8 a.m. - Noon (or until everything is gobbled up!) there’s also the wonderful Smallwood Mongaup Valley Fire Department Pancake Breakfast. YUM YUM so bustle on over to 181 Ballard and see everybody one last time before “This week is School (or LIFE)!”
And finally, because this is America and we heartily love fireworks so much, there are the Labor Day Fireworks to cap everything off: the beaches, the kiddies in floppies, the eagles soaring, the fawns charging, the trees sallowing, the Queen constellation rising, the tomato bursting in your fingers. Here’s the finale to our Bethel Summer of 2024! Head to the Smallwood Beach on Saturday evening, August 31st. Gates open at 7:30 p.m. and everybody is welcome. Rockets will soar and explode in the air starting sometime after dusk. By then it will be dark, of course, but I reckon the collective glow will burn on for a very long time after that, fed by We the People, til the wee hours of the morning and til the embers die.
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