These Precious Days

By Bobby Neal Winters

In June and July, the sun remains in the sky until late in the evening, and to us it feels like youth. Not to say that we feel young, but rather to say it feels normal. It feels as if it is due to us. It is owed us. We are entitled to it.

The long, warm days will go on forever, and we will be young and vigorous forever, until the end of days.

But June passes and then July is gone.  August disappears like an ice cube on a Dallas sidewalk, and we find ourselves in September.

The days don’t last as long now.  The sun remains abed later and it pulls the curtains earlier. It’s as if the days themselves are entering into old age.  Those that once bounded out of bed like they were mounted on springs now have to sit on the edge of the bed awhile to get their balance before staggering off for the start of their day.

We are still at the part of the year where there is more daylight that night.  We can still hear the grasshoppers singing in the grass. (Or is that my tinnitus?) Light and warmth still have the upper hand, but the Old Ones know those times are ending.

In a few weeks, there will be the equinox, and after that, darkness will have the upper hand for six months. The darkness will come and the cold along with it.

There was a time when I hated the cold and dark of winter. There was a time when I hated the heat and aridity of summer. There was a time when I resented spring’s unpredictability.

At some point, I decided to stop wishing my life away, to stop rushing through the seasons, to stop hating the moment, to stop hating life.

The summer may burn our faces with the blistering sun; the winter may chap our skin with its cold wind; the spring may rob our sleep with thunder and hail; but everyday is still another day of life.

All that said, I do love autumn in particular.

Here on the Great Plains, we see the extremes. Sun and snow; Darkness and dust. From ten degrees to a hundred and ten in the same calendar year.

But God owes us nothing in compensation. 

I am owed nothing.

But if we were, if I were, these coming days of September with cool mornings and warm afternoons are days of blessing, days of grace. They would make it worthwhile.

I love them.

Sometimes I just stand still and try to record the moment, to put it into memory for later. I just want to make a mental tape of the way the sun and the air feel against my skin and play it on a loop.

We come into this world naked and we take nothing with us when we leave.  If we are truly wealthy, it will be known from what we leave behind: friendship, love, truths said and knowledge passed along.

Everyday is a gift, but these glorious days of September, days of the Fall are especially so.

Bobby Winters, a native of Harden City, Oklahoma, blogs at redneckmath.blogspot.com and okieinexile.blogspot.com. He invites you to “like” the National Association of Lawn Mowers on Facebook. Search for him by name on YouTube.