Column: Seasonal changes in a retiree's world

I just had to take a stroll through Target last month, to look at the back-to-school notebooks, pens and filler paper.

It’s not that I needed to stock up. I have enough paper goods on hand to open up my own stationery store.

My motivation was more metaphysical. Fall is calling. I felt like I needed something new. I felt like I needed to do something to mark the new season.

For 32 years, I went back to school—at the end of August—as a school librarian. I’m beginning my third year of retirement, but old habits die hard.

I always enjoyed the start of the academic year. One of the favorite parts of my job was shutting down library operations in June and then starting them up again two months later. Fresh beginnings are exciting. The “blank slate” holds so much possibility.

In the library, there would be new books to examine and supplies to unpack.

I’d prepare for my first day back with an inventory of personal supplies. Did I need hand sanitizer, Advil, mini-packets of pretzels?

Of course, I would always need a new day book to keep my schedule in.

Now I am unscheduled. My first year off the job, I did have a small version of the Moleskine calendar book that I favored. I hardly used it. My visual reminders, I discovered, are now best placed on a whiteboard on the refrigerator, rather than in an open book on my desk. No longer am I promptly in my office at 7 a.m. Instead, I’m looking at the fridge.

I do still have to-do lists. And appointments, usually medical. I have a Moleskine, too. It’s a journal, and I don’t need a new one until I’ve filled up the current one. I had to remind myself of that while ogling all the journals in pretty colors at Target. It’s a writer’s obsession, but I resolutely did not buy any office supplies that day.

The mundane routines of life don’t disappear during retirement, but time is more flexible. I can stash items or remove them from the storage loft on days that are not sweltering or frigid. A rainy day just means I’ll weed the garden tomorrow.

I can plan my day trips according to the weather, and travel when fares are cheaper and popular destinations less crowded.

I make my grocery store runs when I think there will be fewer shoppers.

Yes, my time is now my own, and I’m grateful. But I still feel the need to transition with the seasons. I try to live a mindful life, and that means paying attention to what’s happening in the world around me.

Before, I had the “back to school,” marker and all that meant (which was a lot) to get me into fall mode. Now, I have to come up with my own subtle changes. I want to treat this week—now that September is officially here—as the start of something new. But what?

I tried, the last three months, to live with Gershwin’s words in mind: “Summertime, when the livin’ is easy.” I always appreciate it when I don’t have to don a heavy coat, boots, scarf and hat before I get out the door, and then clear off the car. Summer is always simpler in that regard.

But I don’t always give myself a break. I have a Puritan streak that causes a nagging inner voice to tell me I should be cleaning a closet, not lying in a hammock.

I had to silence it by asserting that taking the summer off is not just for kids.

What does taking the summer off mean for a retired person, though? Well, I didn’t clean any closets. I managed to avoid all medical appointments except for a dental cleaning. I took a semi-break from fiction writing.

Of course, food preparation, sink cleaning and sweeping had to continue no matter what. But I did especially enjoy those days when I could declare, “It’s too hot to cook. Salad tonight!”

Now, as the days grow cooler, I am ready to tackle the closets, to organize the big box of photos, to cull and organize my home library. I will return to a stricter writing schedule.

I will go to a medical appointment this week. Usually one leads to another, so it’s off to the races for me.

The season for baking has arrived, and meals that involve the oven. I want to make an apple pie, a quiche and shepherd’s pie with turkey and sweet potato. Portuguese kale soup. Maybe I’ll bake some bread.

There will be foliage to be admired and bulbs to be planted. I’ll need to clean up my garden and prepare it for winter. Our order of firewood will arrive soon. My husband, Paul, has already started complaining about raking leaves (we have an abundance of them). I smile. This too, is a yearly ritual.

I was sitting on my front porch when our mail carrier arrived the other day. He said, innocently yet perceptively, “Do you think about going back to school around this time?”

I was launched. He probably was sorry he asked. Oh, well, good thing I’ve decided it’s pie season. I’ll definitely have to save him a slice.

I welcome email at lizzie621@icloud.com