COVID caught up with a lot of people I know during the summer. Some of them for the first time.
At the beginning of August, when an abundant summer was hitting its peak, I came down with a sore throat and headache. Two days later I tested positive for the virus I’ve managed to avoid for four years. It evolved into some sort of bronchial mess with a fever and I was out of the running for summer fun for about three weeks.
I missed several events, I missed seeing a bunch of friends, and I even missed seeing our grandkids for the week they were here. Waaah, waaah, waaaah, poor little me. But wait. No need to call in the “waaambulance.” Summer lasts at least three weeks beyond Labor Day and I intend to enjoy every bit of it.
Feeling healthy in September on Little Cranberry Island is the perfect antidote to any self-pity one could feel from missing out in August.
Feeling healthy in September on Little Cranberry Island is the perfect antidote…
Barring any hurricane activity, the month of September usually provides glorious weather with temperatures warm enough to encourage staying outside.
September in my garden still looks like summer to me. It’s the perfect time to whip the garden into shape for a few more weeks of visual enjoyment. Some of the annuals will keep flowering once I dead-head them and the Japanese anemones are starting to open up.
Cone flowers are still blooming and so are the cosmos. Bright blue morning glories will greet us all month from the top the garden fence. School has started but our grandkids will come back for fall visits and my carrots will be ready for their help in harvesting.
Though there are still plenty of people around—visitors come out for the day and friends are able to stay into fall—there is a quieting down that begins in September. Children are back in school and the songbirds have either left or are getting ready.
I set my phone outside with the Merlin app turned on to listen for 15 minutes. The only birds it heard were a chickadee, a cardinal, a crow, and a goldfinch.
This loss of birdsong used to make me sad but I know it allows me to hear the low howling of seals as they “sing” from the ledges in the Gut. Their unique low-tide symphony is a sound I get to hear all month, along with the background rumble of lobster boat engines while the weather is warm enough for open windows. The quiet is not yet lonely.
“I love it here in September,” said my friend Emily, from Boston, as we sat on the sand in late afternoon sun. “It’s so beautiful and still warm enough to be able to come to the beach. I like that it gets quieter.”
There are still a few of us who will get to the beach as long as the weather holds. Along with carefree conversation there’s always a chance for deeper discussions with fewer people.
We review the busy summer and laugh over feelings of FOMO (fear of missing out) which are inevitable with so many different schedules and so many people here in July and August.
After Labor Day the pressure lessens to reciprocate summer dinner invitations. Put those people on the list for next year and apply that entertainment energy to reconnecting with island friends and family who are still here. That’s my plan.
“There ought to be a separate name for this season in September,” said Emily. I agree. It is a month brimming with its own distinctive qualities before fall changes everything again.
In the Sami culture of Swedish Lapland they actually do have names for eight seasons of the year. The month of August, referred to as Autumn-Summer or Tjaktjagiesse, is a season to harvest berries and mushrooms and to start storing food for leaner months.
Autumn-Summer would describe our September season pretty well too. If I had to come up with a name for it I might just call it “potentially perfect.” It’s a great little season to make up for lost time.
Barbara Fernald lives on Islesford (Little Cranberry Island). She may be contacted at Fernald244@gmail.com.
