The amplified music rolls over roofs, down alleys, spills into the house. I pause in the kitchen, knife poised over the last of the truly good cucumbers, tilt my head to listen as an amplified voice chatters excitedly in some Latin American tongue. Since my Spanish is limited to being able to ask for “one more, please” or to understand that if I “marco dos” I will hear the information regarding my bank account in a language other than my own, I have no idea what he’s saying, only that high, childish voices cheer and chant when he finishes.
The sound is confusing, muffled and bouncing among the two- and three-story houses. Jeff, two blocks away, sends a text: Is there music in the park today? He refers to the large park across the street. I go out onto the porch. There had been two shifts of Hispanic families and their futbol teams, the inevitable ice cream man trolling hopefully at their outskirts; but the park is empty now.
It’s a beautiful day, the kind that reminds you of summer’s fragility. Sure the leaves are green, the sky brilliantly blue, but every night, the temperature dips just a little bit lower, and the mornings now beg the question: Do I wear a jacket, knowing I won’t need it in the afternoon?
The quiet approach of fall – like the muffling silence of a blizzard – brings somberness with it. The wind blows in ever-cooler gusts, and something primordial in the back of my mind whispers “Store up. Make sure there will be enough.”
The music drifts over my roof and through my windows: a bass guitar, an electric piano, and a man’s plaintive voice.
I still can’t tell where it’s coming from or what he’s talking about, but it sounds like “say good-bye”.
The sound is confusing, muffled and bouncing among the two- and three-story houses. Jeff, two blocks away, sends a text: Is there music in the park today? He refers to the large park across the street. I go out onto the porch. There had been two shifts of Hispanic families and their futbol teams, the inevitable ice cream man trolling hopefully at their outskirts; but the park is empty now.
It’s a beautiful day, the kind that reminds you of summer’s fragility. Sure the leaves are green, the sky brilliantly blue, but every night, the temperature dips just a little bit lower, and the mornings now beg the question: Do I wear a jacket, knowing I won’t need it in the afternoon?
The quiet approach of fall – like the muffling silence of a blizzard – brings somberness with it. The wind blows in ever-cooler gusts, and something primordial in the back of my mind whispers “Store up. Make sure there will be enough.”
The music drifts over my roof and through my windows: a bass guitar, an electric piano, and a man’s plaintive voice.
I still can’t tell where it’s coming from or what he’s talking about, but it sounds like “say good-bye”.
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20 comments:
As welcome as the cooling breezes of fall are your lovely words, my friend.
You captured everything but a whiff of pigskin in the air.
I know exactly what you mean, it'll be here soon.
It's a lovely time of year, and feels so welcome after a hot, sweaty summer. But then when I have to put on socks and long pants I'm not so sure...
Perpetual fall would be paradise.
Hari OM
We are tracking long similar grooves m'dear... a favourite part of the year. YAM xx
There is something melancholy about fall. The breeze in the leaves is so different from spring's breeze in bare branches. Fall has its own soundtrack. And you captured all of that so well.
That's a nice way for summer to end.
We too are getting those cooling breezes. I debate taking a jacket with me or just a vest. There was actually frost the other morning.
A time of year I welcome. A time of year I revel in. And you captured it sooooo well.
For some reason, I feel the need to channel my inner Earth, Wind & Fire.
Say do you remember/dancing in September?/Never was a cloudy dayyyy...
We've just gotten into some warm weather finally....it's been a disappointing summer.
Here in Detroit summer is still sounding long and hard. No crispness yet, still hot and soggy.
If fall did not lead to winter, I'd rejoice in the autumnal changes, but alas, I cannot get excited over ice and snow and bitter cold. Your descriptions are delightful.
Pearl, that was absolutely beautiful!
Of course, here we haven't even begun to see a hint of autumn yet.
We have been tracking Fall since the beginning of summer... I normally love Fall but this year it just reminds me Winter is on it's way again...
Have a great week Pearl :)
It snuck up on us, early night time, dark, moody mornings, yep, summer is gone.
Poignant piece, Pearl. (say that three times fast!) I'm not ready to give up on summer yet, but I rarely have a choice in such matters. :)
I can almost hear it from here....thank you.
b+
Beautifully written piece, Pearl. I wish we had autumn here but it's the Summer That Wouldn't Die. Maybe Hollywood will have it fight The Blob in a movie someday.
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