Something happens on Labor Day. It doesn't matter what date it comes on or what the weather is like. For me, it's the end of summer, and that's a bad day.
Jon, my son, says that no, Labor Day isn't the end of summer. Some would say it ends on the 20th (21st?) of September, the first day of autumn. Jon, I think, would say it ends at the first hard frost, whenever that might come, because suddenly Jon's life changes on that day. From early spring to first frost, his life centers around his garden and his yard. I should take some photos and put them here: His garden is absolutely beautiful, down to the most minute detail. How he emotionally handles one day seeing it all dead I don't know. I guess he focuses from then through winter on planning next year's plantings.
Me, I look back and think that this was probably the most beautiful summer I have ever seen, even though it didn't arrive until late June. I never had so many days where people would be commenting on how perfect a day it is. When I look forward, I think what we have to go through before we have summer again (and will it be as half as good a summer next year?): Football, Christmas, snow, basketball, below-zero temps, tax season, hockey, colds and flu, down jackets, baseball spring-training... and then, finally, Jon out planting and hoping there won't be a late-spring snowstorm...
.... and meanwhile, even though Labor Day is several days behind us, the weather is still perfect, and we hold our breath. Now we are leaving town for a week, heading to four western states that I have never set foot in, where in the mountains we will need sweatshirts... and come back to sweatshirt weather in Minnesota, I bet.
... but oh, what a great day it was today.