Labor Day is the unofficial passing of summer. Even though we still have a few days of hot and humid weather before the linear summer of two thousand and seventeen is over for most of us.
Pencils and books replace endless days of play for school children and now us adults have the short glories of fall to prepare for the pregnancy of winter. There’s wood to get and things to bring in and mends to make.
As the summer seemingly passes and blends into the fall, there is a graceful tranquil moment for the new to begin emerging from a place invisible in the green months and long light of summer. That moment is the Labor Day holiday.
This calendar enchantment of change to the dawning time of splendid color, is neither a first nor last, for seasons are an annual birth in their own time, recasting their unique image year after year.
So swaddle the birth of change and nurture her gifts. Let us hold the memory of a placid and peaceful summer in our hearts of hope and let us be joyfully expectant of a crisp and brilliant fall.