I start October with a reminder--to myself if to no one else--that the joys of summer are not over yet, at least not here in Michigan on the shores of Lake St. Clair. Yesterday was a warm sunny day that saw children still playing on the beach and boats of all shapes and sizes dotting the horizon as far as the eye could see. Folks in this part of the world don't let go of summer until we have to. Yes, I did see one man driving out of the park with his boat on a trailer behind the car, but that was the exception not the rule. The harbor at our communty park was still full of boats as September 2007 waved its final goodbye. But when beautiful October says its farewell in 31 days, things will look very different indeed.

You'd think that the older I get, the more comfortable I'd become with the process of letting go. And in some ways that's true. Except for a few specialized items (music CDs, photography equipment & books), I stopped accumulating material possessions long ago. Recently I've been working one day a week--with the invaluable and paid help of a friend who loves bringing order out of chaos--on going through all the stuff that has filled up the closets and drawers of this old house where Ed and I have lived since 1971. In many ways it's been like an archeological dig. Talk about memories! But once I've seen and remembered, for the most part I'm content to let things go. We give away whatever can still be used, organize what I choose to keep, and fill lots of black plastic bags with the rest. It's been a satisfying project and I'm finding it delightful to live in a less cluttered environment.

So, letting go in and of itself is not my problem; it's just letting go of summer that I find hard. Ever since my childhood summers on the Chesapeake Bay in Maryland, that season has been my favorite. I guess no matter how old I get--I'm now 65--this will be true. Maybe each of us has a season that reflects our natural way of being in the world. What is yours?