The lasts, within the comfortable seasonal rhythm of the northern heartland. The last swim, at least comfortably in the crystal spring fed waters. Unusual water, that always feels like a baptism. The last motorized boat ride, slightly chilly – but skin warmed by the sun. The last windy day for sailing, when you can weave through the narrow passages of our lake.
The last candle-lit deck dinner when warm air still provides clear walls around your outdoor dining room. The lasts limit us, something we humans don’t seem to like – limits. Our voracious curiosity and ambition, what drove us up out of the swamps and tree tops to reign over all. Holding the keys to the planet’s survival in our hands and hearts. We want what we want, but essentially for our own. Letting boundaries, religions, cities divide us from each other. What are we so afraid of?
Getting greedy
I stood in line last spring for a pastry at our world class pastry shop in the neighborhood. I was in a post school day revery, looking forward to coffee and a simple pastry. When a man, old enough to know better, demanded that I give up my place in line as he was most definitely first.
The shop was uncrowded, clerks come to people wherever you are along the cases, and there were plenty of pastries left even after a day of sugar seekers. His tirade interrupted my experience and clouded my day. Later I wondered what he was afraid of. Was he upset that a woman may have bested him? Was he just pushy? Was he afraid that I would select the last pastry in the shop? There was plenty, but he wanted more, to be first.
This has been what has held our species back, greed. The want for more then we need. For the most part, our animal friends regulate themselves, eating the food they need and no more. But we, we worry and want and over do endlessly. Bigger, better, more until we are obese with stuff, dwellings, and experiences.
This season of lasts, as we put away the outdoor furniture, paint the house, squeeze in last minute chores. I’m cherishing these moments with that exquisite knowledge that each moment literally could be the last. We never know what the future will deliver, tragedy, illness, catastrophe. And we have this moment, the leaves glowing, fall weddings at a peak. We continue to dance, drink, and be merry. It’s good to know that each day could be the end.
Luckily, our northern land gives lasts and then gives back. Spring will come, crops will be put in, babies born. I think it’s what makes our most northern land so interesting. We have to bow before the power of seasons and the beginnings and endings that we don’t control. Looking forward now, to that first snowfall!
Kris Potter lives in Minneapolis and on Lake Sylvia. In Minneapolis she works as an early childhood educator. She and her family have had a cabin on Lake Sylvia for more than 40 years.