The struggle itself toward the heights is enough to fill a person’s heart. One must imagine Sisyphus happy.
At least it may be so in Michigan in October, when the last reminder of summer’s warmth lingers in the air.
Summer is lingering around Michigan this year and presenting us with tranquil scenes such as this .
I pictured her back then, sharing scenes from her social life: her stories a playful medley, drawing me in, subverting my best defenses. High school I had spent seeking refuge in a social cubbyhole. Finding myself seated next to this blonde, lissome girl proved a culture shock. I might as well have shared a desk with the goddess Athena; our early conversations had been that one-sided. Linda had been patient with her shy neighbor, and gradually our conversations became a partnership. Through getting to know her, I had stepped into the sunlight. Seeing her again, I wanted to share this, but it came out this way: “I still think of our conversations before class. You were quite the raconteur.”
Yep, it’s that time of year–Labor Day traditionally marks the last appearance of summer in MIchigan. We now await autumn’s cavalcade of colors.
Along the banks of the Au Sable River, there are places where the trees escaped the logger’s saw, and so as the decades passed they grew to full height. Now, even on the sunniest of summer afternoons, their high branches shelter the forest floor, so the light is always muted and high noon seems like dusk. Except in those few spaces where the canopy has a gap and the sunlight pours down.