My sister used to be a nanny for two little boys. One day the 3-year-old put his chubby little hand on her shoulder, he looked her square in the eyes, and with a grave voice said, "Careful Lexie, September's going fast." It was one of those Kids Say the Darndest Things moments — cute or ominous, we weren't sure which. But with each passing year, the wisdom of that little guy becomes more and more apparent.
My birthday is at the end of July, and I can always feel the waning of summer, but the weather is still hot and the pools are still open. August is marked by the beginning of school, and no matter how far away I am from the fourth grade, there is always a tinge of anxiety that comes with August. September on the other hand, is simply delicious.
September is the harvest moon, and the bounty of the garden you've been watering all summer. September glows crisp and sunny. Nature's last gasp before the snow flies is a light show of greens, golds and reds. September in Colorado has a certain smell, we love our pumpkin spice as much as the next state, but through our air wafts the earthy aroma of fire-roasted chiles.
And as the home state for America's Team, the Denver Broncos, September begins that glorious season where we celebrate one of the last remaining bloodsports. There's nothing quite like cozying up in your favorite jersey, an Oktoberfest beer in your hand, listening to your mom yell, "BREAK HIS LEGS," at the television.
Sunday afternoons in the fall are the best that the season has to offer. Family gathered to watch the big game, delicious food from the garden, beer in hand, football, and halftime spent in the front yard watching the kids play catch while the trees rustle and the leaves fall down around them.
It will be in the 80s again next week and we'll be lulled into thinking that summer is here to stay. But make no mistake, September is going. Fast. As with all good and precious things, it will always go fast. So bask in the glow of the colors, and soak up the tastes and the smells. Count yourself lucky to witness this moment in the year when summer's final bow meets winter's first dance.
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