Relative Something

It is Monday today, but not a work day. It is Labor Day, here in the U.S., when we celebrate the economic and social contributions of workers. More importantly, it symbolizes the end of summer. I think the biggest reason people think of it as the end of summer is the fact that, around my region anyway, the day after Labor Day is the first day of school for the K-12 students.

Since Cyndie and I no longer have kids in school, that aspect of the fall season is much less significant. For me, Labor Day is a marker for the change of season. It is already being revealed by cooler night-time temperatures and leaves beginning to display signs they are at the end of their growing phase. Autumn is on the way. I am beginning to sense the different angle of sunlight, and the increasing delay in the sunrise.

Of course, there is also that little thing I wrote about recently, American football. The games have begun for high school, college, and the professional levels. I enjoy all three. I have been known to walk the couple of miles up to our local high school to catch a game on a nice night. Cyndie’s parents have given me tickets to see the University of Minnesota team play for the next two weekends. I’ve often felt that football has been a significant contributor to fall being my favorite time of year. That, and the fact that it means winter, my other favorite time of year, is on its way.

Now in my 52nd year, I am finally beginning to notice a twinge of difficulty in dealing with cold temperatures. Tolerating cold used to be quite easy for me. I don’t have the same super-powers any longer. It has been a source of humor between Cyndie and me, as she as entered a phase of experiencing a fair number of hot spells. Yesterday morning, with the temperature in the low 60s(F), we set off together to visit the house Julian is renting, and then the house Elysa just purchased, to help with some chores.

Cyndie rolled down the window as we started off and I immediately regretted not having grabbed a long-sleeved shirt as a cover up. In a switch from the innumerable times prior, Cyndie was too hot, and I was too cold. You realize, this won’t be a problem soon, if she lives in Boston, while I stay in Minnesota…