I’m Trying Not to Rush the Season

You can tell when summer camp season has ended in Mentone.

Hundreds of families send their boys and girls to this area each year to learn, grow, make friends, and enjoy experiences and lessons to remember for the rest of their lives.

Then, after several weeks of activity and countless visitors in town, the camp season is over. The sidewalks are no longer filled with campers walking, running, and biking. The stores and shops are a bit quieter. The community seems to catch its breath before turning an eye toward fall.

Summer may officially have several weeks remaining on the calendar, but something has clearly shifted. Back-to-school plans take center stage for many families. Vacation days grow scarce. The activities and events that highlighted the past few months begin giving way to new routines for most of us.

Our attention turns toward a new season.

That is especially true in Mentone and across Lookout Mountain, where autumn brings its own energy. Before long, visitors will arrive to enjoy cooler temperatures, community events, and the brilliant colors that make this such a special place.

We have received a good bit of rain this summer, giving us reason to hope for an especially vibrant fall color season. I’m looking forward to it.

But I don’t want to get there too quickly. I have a habit (and maybe you do, too) of rushing from one season into the next. To some degree, society in general pushes us that way. By August, stores are already displaying pumpkins and other signs of fall. Before we know it, Christmas decorations will appear while autumn leaves are still clinging to the trees.

Anticipation is a wonderful thing. Having something to look forward to brings energy and excitement to our lives. The danger comes when our focus on what is next keeps us from noticing what is still here.

And summer is still here. There are warm evenings left to enjoy. There is time for another walk, another meal outside, another visit with friends or another slow drive along a familiar mountain road. There are sunsets we haven’t seen and conversations we haven’t had. Even as one part of the season ends, the rest of it remains available to us.

This transition offers a useful reminder beyond the changing calendar. Life is filled with moments when one chapter begins closing and another comes into view. We can appreciate what is ahead without abandoning where we are. We can prepare for the next season while remaining present in this one.

The campers have gone home. School is beginning. Fall will soon paint the mountain in colors worth traveling many miles to see.

But not today. Today, it is still summer, and I’m going to try to give it my full attention while it lasts.