|The end of the fresh veggies and the beginning of the grapes|
It was probably the hottest summer on record (again) in Upstate New York and it made for an endless summer of boating and swimming and generally finding ways to cool down. For all of you who poo-poo the difference between 90 degrees of dry heat and 90 degrees of humid heat, just try it out for yourselves. Ninety-five degrees and 80 percent humidity just sits on your chest and diaphragm and makes you seek shade near the coolness of the lake with a cold drink in your hand. Productivity diminishes as the temperature rises. Most of the houses in our area don't have air conditioning --- nor have they ever needed it.
But the demarcation of Labor Day is still like a 'before and after' of summer. It was hot, hot, hot. Then the switch flipped and it was cold, cold, cold. Low of 42. High of 62. And now I get how the locals love the change of seasons. Pull out the fleece, make a cup of tea, and ho ho! Our energy is back and frisky, just like all the dogs that have gone from panting in the shade of the park to leaps and frolics.
As we started to shut down the lake cottage, getting all the linens cleaned and dried and into plastic storage bags, scrubbing down a summer of dirt and fun so the critters will have less motivation to move in while we're gone for the winter, I time traveled back to every summer when we would go into mourning as we closed up and returned to the city the day after Labor Day.
School in New York started the Wednesday after Labor Day (and probably still does) so after months of running free, not having a schedule, swimming, skiing, playing games, hanging out, it was back to the 'real world' for us. No wonder we weren't eager to leave.
We had planned on being in New York for our first fall since our college years and have had so many of our snowbird friends tell us that fall is their favorite season there. That you can have warm weather, sun and swimming anywhere if you go south enough, but fall, ahhhhhhhh. It's special.
|Mourning the last of the sweet corn|
We'll have plenty of photos and stories to tell when we return, along with a plan, for sure, to spend next fall on the shores of Seneca Lake.