The slow, hot march toward summer's end

And so, it begins.

Or rather, it ends. Or at least starts to.

I'm as big a fan of the Fourth of July as anyone. I love the fireworks, the family gatherings, the cookouts, the parades.

But the problem I have with the Fourth of July is that it marks a pivot point. Prior to the Fourth, the summer is in its infancy, with all the freedom and possibility you can imagine. But once the holiday passes, the slow march toward summer's inevitable end painfully comes into focus.

The Fourth of July is an explosion of summer grandeur. But then the rest of the summer so often fizzles away, a slow bake in the hot Delta sun. The season that was once a clean slate of endless summer opportunity, becomes no more than a driveway littered with the burned-out debris of bottle rockets and fading days of glory.

A recent trip to the Wal-Mart Supercenter didn't do much to change the mood. By Sunday afternoon, aisles that once housed an infinite selection of summer cookout and beach gear were being cleared out to make way for the dreaded back-to-school aisle. Signs the once championed the "American Summer" were coming down, replaced by signs urging customers to "Do the Math" for back-to-school savings.

And a familiar tale has appeared in the "daily almanac" sections posted in this newspaper and many others: The days are getting shorter. At a slow-but-steady rate of a minute or so every couple of days, the sunrises are getting later, and the sunsets are getting earlier. It's but another reminder of the slow retreat of summer days.

Post-July 4 to late August is the dead zone. This is the time of year when life slows down around here. The excitement of the new summer has worn off, replaced by the hot, heavy afternoons that define mid-to-late summer in the Delta. Many vacations are already over. Baseball season is finished for everyone but the diehards. And many folks simply retreat into the sanctuary of their air-conditioned homes and offices.

A look at the calendar of events in the newspaper tells the same story. Gone are the Saturday's packed with community events. Most all that remains is the steady drone of civic club gatherings and city committee meetings. Only an occasional baseball tournament breaks the monotony.

It shouldn't be this way. Summer is too glorious of a time to simply hibernate away the last six weeks. There's still time for camping trips. There's still time for backyard campfires. There's still time for nights at the ballpark.

Sure, it may be hot. But I ask you this: Would you rather put up with a little hot sun and humidity, or spend a few days back in the darkened tundra that followed last January's ice storm? I, for one, will take the heat any day.

So fading as it may be, I intend to cherish every last moment of this summer. Because as inevitably as Wal-Mart will change is displays a month in advance of the next seasonal milestone, summer will indeed end. The leaves will change; the temperatures will cool. And before we know it, we'll all be longing for summer to arrive again.

That's why we need to cherish the one we've got. There's still time.