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On television news last weekend, there were several
stories about the Labor Day holiday, some of which called
it the official end of summer.
We seem compelled to stamp official
on all manner
of things: an official language for a state, an official
candy bar for the Olympic games, an official beer for a
stadium, an official newspaper for the fan, an official
misleading account of a government raid, to name a few.
But an official end of summer
?
Perhaps naively, I thought that had been settled long ago, at least in the northern temperate zone, by ancient astronomical observers who recorded the sun's course across the sky -- particularly its rising and setting points on the eastern and western horizons.
There were intervals when the point appeared not to
change for several days, as though the sun was resting
before switching directions between north and south. These
became known as solstices,
from the Latin sol
for sun, and sistere,
to stand.
A solstice occurred in late June and late December -- twice a year.
The ancients observed other times when the hours of
sunshine matched the hours of darkness. This event came to
be known as an equinox,
from the Latin for equal
night.
We have two each year, in late March and late
September.
My references do not say when or how these celestial events became associated with the onset of terrestrial seasons, only that it happened: Winter starts with the winter solstice, spring with the vernal equinox, summer at the summer solstice, and fall at the autumnal equinox.
So if there's a truly official end of summer, it must be
the start of fall, and the autumnal equinox occurs this
year at 5:31 a.m. MDT on Sept. 23 -- more than a fortnight
after the TV journalists proclaimed the official end of
summer.
Little wonder that people so mistrust the
media these days.
Perhaps this isn't fair, though. I have long argued that the traditional calendar with four seasons does not fit well in the mountains of Colorado.
Some argue that there are only two seasons:
winter
and company.
But others allow a summer.
In the higher places,
like Leadville, you'll hear things like I sure hope
summer comes on a weekend this year so I can get out and
enjoy it.
Legend has it that Leadville is the only
place where an Independence Day baseball game was canceled
on account of snow, but I've also heard the same story
about Silverton, and I've never seen any good documentation
for either.
Perhaps because Salida offers a more clement climate, I have proposed seven official seasons: Ski Season, Mud Season, Tick Season, Tourist Season, September, Big-Game Hunting Season and then Firewood Season before Ski Season returns to start a new year.
Further, in my scheme, the season of September
would be set aside for residents as a reward for putting up
with Colorado during the rest of the year. No
tourist-oriented events could be scheduled or promoted, all
chambers of commerce and visitor centers would be closed,
and gas stations would be allowed to sell out-of-county
aspen viewers only enough fuel to get home.
Our legislature could keep this in mind if it ever
considers an Official State Calendar, and could then also
formally enact Southern Colorado Standard Time: Things
happen when they happen,
so as to preserve what's left
of the pleasant relaxed atmosphere in the better portion of
our state.
Let's return to the end of summer, which was informally signified by the start of school, which came after Labor Day during my youth. It was still that way when my kids were in school here -- the professional educators would propose starting school earlier, and a large body of parents, myself among them, would always object.
But Salida schools started in August this year, and they weren't even close to being the earliest. That distinction apparently went to the Jefferson County schools, whose opening received considerable coverage on account of a media desire to wring yet another story from the Columbine High School shootings of April 20.
Those poor kids had to go back to school in the middle of August. They missed several weeks of the vital education we used to get in late summer -- the hydrology segment of floating down irrigation ditches on inner tubes, the botanic exploration of farmers' fields for ripe sweet corn that could be grabbed, the literary joy of checking out half a dozen books from the library and returning them the next day for another load because we had lots of time to read.
If Aug. 16 has become the de-facto start of fall in Colorado's most populous county, summer in the metro area is even shorter than it is in Leadville. Maybe the legislature does need to declare an official start of Colorado fall, before summer vanishes altogether.
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