Trares
An autumn-esque blast has punctured my summer soiree.
After what seemed like a never-ending string of 90-degree days and oppressive humidity, central Indiana was rewarded with some relief this past week. Daytime temperatures settled into the low- to mid-70s. The humidity fell off a cliff. At night, it got downright chilly.
I’m not going to say I didn’t enjoy the change. But it did put in focus a reality I wasn’t quite ready to admit.
I am an unabashed lover of summer. Give me sunny skies and temps in the 80s all year long. Even those brutal days where it feels like walking outdoors is like stepping in front of a blast furnace or slogging through a tropical swamp, I prefer to the bite and chill of winter.
It’s still August (barely) and I wasn’t in the right mindset for sweater-and-jeans weather yet. Especially with Labor Day weekend coming up.
Those who have read this column in the past know how much I love the Labor Day holiday. Not only is it a celebration of all workers, but it ties a bow on the summer season before we transition into fall. Area pools are still open, but college football kicks off at the same time. Meal plans may have corn on the cob and fresh garden tomatoes one day, then a big pot of chili the next.
I’ve written in the past about how Labor Day is tied to some of my favorite memories, closing out the season with one last hurrah at the lakehouse my family had growing up. We’d spend the weekend wringing the last ounce of fun from the summer, with boat rides, tubing, bonfires and late-night dance parties.
Many of those years included a neighborhood meal of some sort — taco night, fried fish, or for many of the years, a pig roast. Everyone would come together with side dishes and desserts, toasting the end of the cottage season until we’d all be back together the following spring.
Those memories live on, even if we no longer have a lakehouse to go to. College football is on all Saturday long, only transitioning to Cleveland Guardians baseball on the (satellite) radio in the evening. We have friends over for cookouts or pulled pork in the crock pot. Evenings on the patio are augmented with music and sitting around the fire pit.
This year, we’ve planned a full weekend, full of festivals, football and food. Friends will come over for a make-your-own-nacho bar my wife and I have been scheming for weeks now. We’ll make one last trip to the pool before it closes.
No matter what the weather would be, we’d enjoy ourselves this Labor Day. But my memories of holidays past are closely tied to hot, sunny days — the last chance to work on your tan before long sleeves and pants cover it up.
This cooler-than-normal week, while refreshing, has me feeling conflicted. I’ve had to face up to the fact that the end is near.
Sure, I’ll still break out the grill for a barbecue well into the fall (and I’m a firm believer that there is no end to grilling season.) But those burgers and brats won’t taste the same without farm-fresh sweet corn and sliced onions and peppers from the farmers market to accentuate them.
Already, every day is a little bit shorter; the mornings stay dark later, and the mid-summer sky staying light at 10 p.m. is a distant memory.
I’m sure I’ll feel a tinge of melancholy on Monday afternoon, where the carefree days of summer give way to the commitments of fall: soccer practice, spelling homework, weekends jam packed with events, activities and responsibilities.
So I’ll be wringing every last bit of seasonal fun over the next three days.
No matter what the thermometer says — it’s still summer.
Ryan Trares is a senior reporter and columnist for the Daily Journal. Send comments to editorial@therepublic.com.
