September is a bittersweet month. Summer wanes, the sun casts longer shadows, and the foliage seems to look tired as it stores energy for its fall extravaganza. Lydia refers to this time of year as the start of the melancholy days – a time for going inside.
“September Window,” Carol Crump Bryner, monoprint
September 16, 1913 – “A nice cool day. Am sorry to have the melancholy days come, when all shut-ins have to be housed. ‘I love the good old summer time.’ Still getting potatoes. Ellsworth went down to Delevan Ives’ place to a corn roast. The Oyster Club.” – Lydia Jane Hall
September 28, 1914 – “A very nice cool fall day – Edgar’s [her oldest child’s] birthday, very much the same kind of a day – fifty years old – it doesn’t seem possible that so many years have flown by since then. So they go and children & grandchildren and great-grandchildren come to us – all we hope to be useful men and women.” – Lydia Jane Hall
September 26, 1921 – “Nice day. Men busy gathering apples. Agnes took Lydia to school – all had a ride. Mr. Biggs [my great-grandfather] fixing the flowers, tying up the dahlias, helping Ellsworth with the apples. All busy baking, getting meals, etc. Many hands make light work! All well and happy, seemingly.” – Lydia Jane Hall
See also – April, May, June, July, August Windows
On Monday – The Muddy River Schoolhouse
Liked everything this week – and the windows always favorites. Lydia seems such a presence – she makes the short journal format very appealing. She’s lucky to be contemplating great-grandchildren. And she makes me think of your mom when lamenting the passing of “the good old summer time.” I’m with her. It’s interesting (and very east coast I think) to think of foliage storing energy for the fall show — I always think of the yellows and brows as the utter depletion of energy. That might be projection from Alaska falls, so soon to be winter.
I’m already thinking ahead to the book of this blog. Will be beautiful.
Thanks, Katy. The colored foliage was always (and still is, I guess) the big deal every fall. There’s something about the clear and bright autumn air that seems to wake everything up after the hazy humidity of August. And it does go on so long compared to the yellows and decaying brown color in Alaska.
A book is a daunting, but I think inevitable, outcome of this project — I hope. Thanks for your confidence that it will happen!
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