So, summer gathers up her robes of glory, and like a dream, begins to glide away.

We have poet Sarah Whitman to thank for the perfect words for this summer-closing weekend. Robes of glory carrying the first of the gladioli and perfect apples and sweet white corn and the last of the fireflies–those are my words.

The summer was sweet — hot, but surely it made a statement about sunshine and everyday it offered itself up and asked you to enjoy it. And despite the high gas prices, the lake seemed filled with boats, putting to Bemus or Long Point, skiers screaming at the end of the line. The Weiner Boat put a nice touch on summertime, too — the brainchild of Vince Liuzzo. What was better than grabbing a hotdog and a lemon ice on the warm shores of Long Point or Whitfield Bay?

If I had to give summer a word, I’d name it “resilience.” In what seemed like the most normal summer in years, the people of Chautauqua County showed resilience–with restaurants serving up summer despite the Help Wanted signs in the windows, despite intermittent food shortages, despite sky-high prices. The businesses that make summer better here made summer better-again.

Signs of life: a very busy Chautauqua Avenue in Lakewood. Every weekend cars were parked up and down the Ave and locals and tourists sat outside on decks and patios and had a beer and a burger at Group Ther-Happy or a steak and a salad at Stella’s. Lakewood was bustling–new businesses, new homes being built or old ones gutted and transformed from cottage to castle. Southern Tier Brewery served up lots of sunshine and messy nachos.

It was a good summer for Lakewood — and proof that time constantly changes people and places. With a new crop of kids riding bikes to the new candy store on Chautauqua Ave, and new people moving into our neighborhood, there is something of a renaissance here.

People everywhere wanted a real summer — one where they could wander around and find themselves in the heart of it–find that summer sweet spot where the sun shines, where the IPA’s are cold, coolers are wedged in the back of the boat, heading out in the perfect sundress, and lots of walks down to the water’s edge to watch the sunset.

Whatever you did — sat on your docked pontoon every weekend, swam at the gorge, did Sunday funday at Group Ther-Happy, picked blueberries, listened to classical music at the Institution, make sure you tuck those days into some pocket and take them with you.

Because on the worst days of winter, summer can still burn a hole in your back pocket.

Summer symbolizes youth — fall tells the story of maturity. Seasons change but so do we. Throughout history, cultures, science, and astrology have linked the seasons to our own human life cycle and to the way nature influences our lives. It’s a connection that is universal and lives in our bones.

The book, “Autumn Rounds,” is a tale of love that arrives in the autumn of life. A man sees a marching band from his apartment window, and motivated by his realization that life is slipping away makes a choice to join them.

In the novel “October” by Richard B. Wright, a man accompanies an old acquaintance on a final, improbable journey searching for answers in the autumn of his life.

As the Greek philosopher Heraclitus once said, “The only constant is change.” Autumn reminds us that our bodies, minds, and surroundings are perpetually changing. We recognize the impermanence of life, and so we embrace the present. By doing so, we can savor what we have before it is gone. The end of summer is a transition for the seasons and human beings alike.

My family used to hike the Portage Trail every autumn near Westfield. It was seven miles then, though now the path is closed to hikers. I asked the new owners once if I could cut through their yard –the first steps of the hike — for nostalgia sake and take that journey once again, but he said no.

And I still miss it and recall it and remember it. The smell of autumn grapes, the wet earth, the rotting leaves. The cold water rushing over Buttermilk Falls, in a hurry to somewhere else.

To me, fall always seemed like the death of summer. As I get older, I see that it has its place, it’s purpose. Summer ends and we wonder where we are; so we take stock again. Yet, summer never says goodbye, it just slips away. It leaves silently, much like a traveler approaching the end of a very good journey.