Well, that was fast

Today is the fist day of fall. Fall!

Not that I don’t love autumn. I actually like it more than I like summer.

But where did the summer go?

I had big plans, big plans.

Empty out the only decent-sized closet in my condo and find a place to get rid of 20+ years of accumulated laptops (and a desktop or two; plus a printer).

Go the last mile on organizing my finances, including updating my will.

Start turning a bunch of linked short stories into a novel.

Lose 10 pounds.

None of it got done. Nada. Zip. Zilch.

It’s not like I lost time by going on a big old vacation or anything. A couple of weekends on the Cape; my recent 4-day jaunt to Canada and Bar Harbor.

No, I’ve been around

And I’ve had plenty of time, especially since the Red Sox have been so lousy that I only watch an inning or two of every game, not the entire thing.

But nothing seemed to get done.

Maybe this coming season.

I sure won’t miss the time-wasting that seemed to accompany summer this year. Can’t blame summer, but still…

There are a couple of things I will miss about summer.

Corn on the cob.

Last week, I picked some up at the Farmers’ Market in Copley Square. Probably the last of the season, but it was so tender and sweet. I’ll miss corn on the cob.

Tomatoes.

Yes, you can get good-enough tomatoes all year round. And unlike the pink and pulpy winter tomatoes of yore, they actually look, taste and smell like tomatoes. But there’s nothing like a newly picked tomato. Tomato in one hand, salt shaker in the other. Heaven! I’ll miss tomatoes.

Summer fruit.

As with tomatoes – but not, for whatever reason, corn on the cob – you can get decent fruit pretty much all year round, and if you’re willing to pay enough, fruits are rarely out of season. But I’m not always willing to pay enough, and I’ll miss cherries, plums, nectarines, and peaches. Also the occasional tiny Maine wild blueberries that show up in the market – so much better than the more commercial versions, the blueberries the size of marbles. Wild blueberries. Just like the ones we used to pick in the woods when I was a kid. Yum! (Kicking myself for not getting an extra pint or two for the freezer when they had them at Roche Brothers.) I’ll miss summer fruit.

Baseball.

Despite the Red Sox crash and burn season, I will miss the Boys of Summer. I know, I know, there’s still another week. And I’m going to the final game of this lackluster season on Sunday. And beyond that, there’s the postseason, which runs until the end of October, and which I do keep an eye on, even if the Olde Towne Team fails to make it. (Looking at you, Cleveland, to come through…) But it’s not the same as watching your team during the regular. No more Jerry Remy, no more Eck. There’s always next year. I’ll miss baseball, even though I do have another month plus of it.

Light. Mostly what I’ll miss is the light.

Most evenings, I take a brief walk – a half hour or so – and most evenings I head for the Esplanade, which runs along the Charles River, or the Boston Public Garden. I do walk both of these locations year-round, but in the summer, in the evening, they’re full of folks, and very safe-feeling as long as there’s still some light. Within the next few weeks, I’ll have to switch my evening walk mode to after dark. Which means walking along Charles or Newbury. Fine. Interesting. Good window shopping. People around. But it’s not quite the same as an evening walk along the river or through the beauteous Boston Public Garden, where if you’re lucky the Dirty Water Brass Band or the Saxyderms (a sax ensemble that started out at Tufts, which has Jumbo the Elephant – a pachyderm  - as their mascot) are giving a little concert. (Meanwhile, the swan boats have already been retired for the season. Wish they’d leave them in the water until Columbus Day, but I think that once the college kids who pedal them go back to school, they’re hard put to find workers.)

Time does seem to go by faster as you get older. And there’s even some science to back up the fact that this perception may well be a reality (dopamine levels dropping, etc.). But this summer really seemed to fly by.

I need to figure out how to slow this down. Or just do a better job trying not to waste a season.

Seriously, folks, how many more summers do I have left?

Actuarially speaking, I should make it another 87 and a half years. So a few more summers, falls, winters, springs.

Let’s see if I can make a bit more out of this new season. There’s the financials, the closet, the novel, the 10 pounds. But I’ve got until the end of December. Plenty of time…