Back from 3 glorious, internet-free, sunny days on the Hudson and the Jersey Shore.  Labor Day weekend is always bittersweet for me, especially with the closing of the official beach season.  At this time of year this verse from the poem “Jūrai” often comes to mind:

“Ardievu, brivā jūra! Sveika!
Tavs skaistums manas skumjas māks,
Un ilgi tava tālā teika
Pie manis klusās stundās nāks.”

The poet has strong connections to the land that is now Latvija (although this poem is not about the Baltic specifically).  Consider this a mikro-kviz a la Roberts, if you like.

A quick glance at the boiling topics of the day elsewhere on this forum provides assurance that the pattern of bobbing, weaving, accusations and intentional misrepresentations/fabrications of people’s statements and views (including mine) by one ambersun continues unabated. 

I guess I should wade through the last few days and respond.  But the garden calls.  Those of us in the lauku iedzīvotāji have our work cut out for us as the harvest and cleanup continues.

ak

To the garden!!  Away to the garden!!

I googled and googled, but came up empty…(sigh)! 

Someone said that the ocean, sea is one of the closest ways of feeling a sense of infinity here on this planet.  That transition from summer to fall has always been a difficult one for me, something I always felt as a kid and that has always stayed with me, never left.  Missing languishing in the warmth of the sun, the pounding surf, dancing with the waves or as Latvians might say, “cinities ar vilniem.”

But I also remember a time in the middle of September, after Labor Day when the crowds had already diminished.  Walking along the coast in Cape Cod at night, the water temperature by that time warmer than the surrounding air and seeing spurts of flickering light everywhere—the waters lit up with phosphorescent light.  I saw the same bioluminescence once on the Pacific coast (I think in the month of January(?) from plankton that come only at a certain time of year.

Once I get over this summer/fall transition and start noticing that there’s still life, beauty left in the world—the turning of the leaves, that very soft subtle, amber glow, you sometimes see in the fall, like in some of the old Dutch master’s paintings—well then I’m OK again, as long as I can relish these moments and not dwell on the coming winter ahead.  And then comes the harvest—another good reason to celebrate. 

To reiterate again—Get thee to the garden!

Irena

Summer is over?
My wife told me that now we no longer have our grandchildren around (after two months of wonderful times) wanted me to help her clean out the overgrown garden she neglected during the summer. I gave her a can of cheap spray paint and told her to weed and spray around the plants she wanted to keep. When done I took the weedeater and lawnmower and cut everything else down, bagged it and the city hauled it away.
Now I can get back to building a 1/50 scale model of the river boat “Delta Queen” which I started last year. It is about 72 inches long for reference and will be radio controlled with all the bells, lights and whistles. As soon as I receive the $65 Bow Thruster from England I can permanently glue down the deck and start with the top. This is not a kit but 4 4X5 foot pages of all the boats dimensions and you build your own from scratch.
Football, Rugby, Basketball, Christmas in LA, March in ST Louis and boat building will occupy my winter.

While we are musing about the end of the summer, what comes to mind living in beautiful N.Carolina is that we have four seasons.  Perhaps not as noticable and not as vivid as Irena’s New England seasons, but compared to what I had in South Florida, this is heavenly.
Soon the leaves will start to change color and drop and I love to rake them off my deck - Swooosh!
I love the squirrels who are already digging holes and hiding their acorns.  The hummingbirds are still at the sugar water feeder and the Carolina wrens still sing to us when we have our morning coffee. And even though the deer eat everything I plant, I still love seeing them come out of the woods with their little speckled Bambis.  I consider these things real food for the soul.
Hope y’all enjoy your change of seasons.

Here in the south east of England the summer is still hanging on and we are enjoying gardening in pleasant sunny weather.

Being just a short hop from Latvia we are in a position to make frequent trips there. It’s always interesting to see how quickly the Latvian summer chills into autumn rapidly followed by winter starting in November while in Kent we can often get halfway through October before feeling that summer has closed its doors for the year.

My retirement dream is to spend summers in Latvia and winters in England. I wonder if it will happen?

Sveiks Rowfant!  I consider you to be lucky to be so close to Latvia—just a hop, skip, jump away!  And I hear the SE of England is lovely.  At this time of year I’m reminded of mushroom picking in LV, one of my own most pleasant of remembrances even though I never did quite get it down—distinguishing the edibles from those that were NOT!  This, even though my own mother was an expert mushroom picker and even here in the US would be searching for ‘bekas’ as opposed to ‘musmieras’ (those most beautiful, but deadliest of shrooms).

I’ve heard tell from many that the first snows in Latvia come right around the time of Latvian Independence Day (November 18th); here in MA typically, though this doesn’t always hold true, our first snowflakes come in December and after a brief hiatus, the serious stuff usually starts happening in January right through March, sometimes even the beginning of April

I hope your dream of England winters-Latvian summers is realized!

Irena