Sunday E-dition: The Quiet Ache of September
By Glenda Winders
What is it about September?
Even as I type the word into my computer I feel a vague sense of nostalgia and loss. The grandmother to whom I was very close always said she felt sad in September, so maybe that’s where my feelings began, but it seems that a lot of people share them. More songs have this month in the title than any other, and many of them look back with regret and longing: “September Song,” “The September of My Years,” “Pale September,” “Wake Me Up When September Ends” and others, none particularly happy. You don’t see the same phenomenon with, say, March. Author Ray Bradbury describes it as a time when “things are getting sad for no reason.”
In many parts of the country the temperatures have begun to drop almost as if they could read the calendar. Even in California you can tell with your eyes closed when fall, albeit unofficially, has begun. A slight drop in temperature and an almost imperceptible tilt in the angle of the sun announce that the seasons are changing.
This month marks the beginning of the school year, a subject about which there are many mixed feelings. Young children regret the end of nonstop playtime and teenagers the loss of money from summer jobs and hang time with friends. A teacher I knew went into a depression every year in August as a new school year loomed. Parents are either sad because their children are gone for the day — or giddy about it.
Since I grew up rurally and didn’t see my friends for most of the vacation, I couldn’t wait to get back to school. In fact, one year I was so excited that I got dressed and walked to the bus stop at 3 a.m. in my sleep. Even today, long after years of being a student and then a teacher, I’m like one of Pavlov’s dogs when stores begin to advertise back-to-school shopping. But in the spirit of full disclosure, I was also the one who put up her hand to remind the teacher she was planning to assign an essay. I was not part of the mainstream.
My enthusiasm notwithstanding, I still have sad memories that surface each year at this time, too. My family’s name was hard to pronounce, so each year I had to fight that battle with a new teacher. I also had a lot of apprehension because I had a mole on my face that embarrassed me so much that I made an anxious run for the seats on the side of the room where no one could see it. Two days in, the teacher knew my name and my mole was yesterday’s news, but that didn’t make my first-day jitters go away.
There was also the year of the notebook. The big blue-and-white leather-looking beauty with the name of the school where I was a transfer student embossed on it was the centerpiece of an autumn-themed window display at the bookstore where we went for my supplies. My parents told me it was way too expensive, but I invoked the old argument about everyone else having one, and they caved.
Today’s Puzzle: Why do we call it “September”?
It rolls off the tongue like a school bell — but its roots are in ancient Rome. What’s the real story behind the name?
Later I learned that I was the only kid in the whole school who had one of the contraptions. While everyone else worked in tidy spiral-bound notebooks, a different color for each class, I had to unzip my behemoth and clack open the three rings every single period. It seemed to me that the sound was deafening, and at first heads always turned in my direction. Complaining to my parents got me nowhere.
The September of my freshman year in high school is also tinged with wistfulness, even though the story later had a happy ending. An upperclassman on whom I had a huge crush had asked me out the previous year, but my parents said I couldn’t date until I turned 14 at my July birthday. My plan was to seek him out on the first day of school and bravely announce that I could now accept. I saved my babysitting money all summer and bought a new dress (little checks of pastel colors all over, in case you were wondering), shoes and a purse.
On the big day I looked for him everywhere — in the halls, in the cafeteria, in the gym — but I couldn’t find him. Finally, I asked one of his friends, who told me that Bob had left school early and enlisted in the Air Force. I got back onto the bus that afternoon with a heavy heart that I can still feel when I think about it. Four Septembers later, though, he was discharged and we both started college on the same campus at the same time. The high school dropout eventually became an M.D.-Ph.D. — and my husband.
Sept. 11, 2001 — 9/11 — has to be the worst of the bad September memories, not just for me but for all of us. It was one of those “Where were you when …” days there is no chance of us ever forgetting. I was in the kitchen putting the breakfast dishes into the dishwasher before I left for my office. My husband, who was already at work, called to say I should turn on the TV. “New York City is being attacked,” he said — the beginning of the most dramatic cultural upheaval to happen in my lifetime. The shared fear we experienced for months was palpable and lingers to this day. An innocence and optimism that even world wars had not been able to discourage disappeared within minutes.
I was talking to a psychiatrist friend about all of this a while back, and he told me that while he acknowledges that we are all products of our pasts, some much darker than others, he believes our best bet is to set some of the bad memories aside and spend that energy shaping what is yet to come. If you see September coming (or any other blue time of the year — I know people who experience these feelings in April) — make plans ahead for adventures that will lift you up.
Reframe this month as akin to New Year’s Day and the first day of spring. As students begin their new year of study, why shouldn’t the rest of us? Maybe it’s a plan to learn something new like they are by getting a library card or joining an online class. Maybe it’s a renewed commitment to playing a musical instrument or a time to plan a long-postponed trip.
This time will pass. As October approaches, a lovely chill will be in the air, and we’ll be eager to get into our cozy clothes, brew up some hot cocoa and sit by the fireside with a good book. September’s spell will be broken, and we’ll be on to the next thing, whatever that turns out to be.
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Glenda Winders is a novelist, freelance writer and copy editor for Napa Valley Features.
Today’s Polls:
Poem of the Day
“September Midnight”
By Sara Teasdale
Lyric night of the lingering Indian Summer,
Shadowy fields that are scentless but full of singing,
Never a bird, but the passionless chant of insects,
Ceaseless, insistent.
The grasshopper’s horn, and far-off, high in the maples,
The wheel of a locust leisurely grinding the silence
Under a moon waning and worn, broken,
Tired with summer.
Let me remember you, voices of little insects,
Weeds in the moonlight, fields that are tangled with asters,
Let me remember, soon will the winter be on us,
Snow-hushed and heavy.
Over my soul murmur your mute benediction,
While I gaze, O fields that rest after harvest,
As those who part look long in the eyes they lean to,
Lest they forget them.
About the author: Sara Teasdale (1884–1933) was an American lyric poet known for her evocative explorations of love, beauty and melancholy. She was born in St. Louis, Missouri, and later became part of the literary circles of New York City. Teasdale won the first Columbia Poetry Prize in 1918, which later became the Pulitzer Prize for Poetry. She was a contemporary of poets such as Edna St. Vincent Millay and Vachel Lindsay, and her work reflects the personal and emotional tenor of early 20th-century American poetry.
“September Midnight” is characteristic of Teasdale’s refined lyricism and deep emotional resonance. Her poems often employ natural imagery to mirror inner landscapes, as seen here in the seasonal transition reflecting feelings of wistfulness and introspection. Her precise language and musicality influenced later poets, especially in confessional and nature-infused traditions. The poem’s subtle modulation between observation and feeling is emblematic of her broader style.
How this poem connects to the article: Teasdale’s “September Midnight” mirrors the emotional undercurrents of Glenda Winders’ essay — a contemplative mood set against the shifting season. Both works explore memory, melancholy and the subtle but powerful feelings stirred by September’s changes.
Are you a poet, or do you have a favorite piece of verse you'd like to share? Napa Valley Features invites you to submit your poems for consideration in this series. Email your submissions to napavalleyfeatures@gmail.com with the subject line: "Poem of the Day Submission." Selected poets will receive a one-year paid subscription to Napa Valley Features (a $60 value). We can’t wait to hear from you.
Today’s Caption Contest
Pick your favorite caption or add your own in the comments below.
Possible Captions:
"I used to have a point."
“And then they started chewing...”
“I’m haunted by the graphite ghosts of essays past.”
“It’s the constant grind that wears me down.”
“I wasn’t always No. 2, you know.”
Last week’s contest results
In “Sunday E-dition: Poetry’s Dangerous Gift,” the winning caption was “It’s not just a shell. It’s a lifestyle,” with 44% of the votes.
“Zillow called it ‘cozy.’”
“It’s not just a shell. It’s a lifestyle.”
“Form is function.”
“It practically carries me.”
“And how was your trip to Europe?”
Last Week
Tim Carl recounted a pair of events centered on tradition and community support in “Blessing of the Grapes 2025 and a $1 Million Gift Aimed at Care.” At Grgich Hills Estate’s 49th Blessing of the Grapes, vineyard crews, family and friends gathered to mark the start of harvest with prayer, music and gratitude for field workers. The following evening the Grgich family announced a $1 million donation to the Providence Community Health Foundation Napa Valley, establishing an endowment and providing immediate support for dementia and Alzheimer’s care. The gift honored the legacy of Miljenko “Mike” Grgich and his commitment to compassionate aging services. The piece underscored how agricultural ritual and philanthropic action can together shape a community's future.
Sasha Paulsen reflected on national crisis and personal memory in “Remembering Sept. 11 — and Facing Today’s Divisions.” Drawing from her own experience of learning about the 9/11 attacks, Paulsen compared the external threats of 2001 to what she described as internal assaults on democracy unfolding in 2025. She expressed concern over escalating attacks on truth, civility and democratic institutions, contrasting the unity seen in the aftermath of 9/11 with the current climate of division. Citing former Congressman Adam Kinzinger’s recent essay, Paulsen emphasized the importance of civic engagement and hope. The piece served as both a personal remembrance and a call to collective responsibility.
Tim Carl examined poetry’s enduring relevance and perceived danger in “Sunday E-dition: Poetry’s Dangerous Gift.” Drawing from classical and contemporary voices, Carl argued that poetry disrupts complacency by fostering empathy, reflection and connection — qualities that can challenge societal norms. He wove together insights from poets such as Sappho, Rilke and Mary Szybist, while sharing personal encounters that shaped his understanding of poetry’s power. The piece highlighted Napa Valley’s own literary presence, including local poet Benjamin Falk, and urged readers to engage with poetry as both a creative act and a means of deeper awareness. Carl positioned poetry not as luxury but as necessity — a force that unsettles, consoles and reminds us that we are not alone.
Kathleen Scavone reflected on the behavior and history of a striking local bird in “A Morning Walk Reveals a Steller's Jay.” Using a recent sighting as a starting point, Scavone described the jay’s distinctive calls, feeding habits and nesting patterns, while also noting its clever mimicry of hawks to ward off competition. She traced the bird’s naming back to German naturalist Georg Wilhelm Steller, who first documented the species during an 18th-century expedition to Alaska. The piece also distinguished Steller’s jays from their scrub jay relatives, emphasizing their differing habitats and physical traits. Scavone concluded with encouragement to observe nature’s subtle surprises.
Carl reported on a rare joint session of Napa County supervisors and planning commissioners in “From Boom to Mature: Napa County Grapples With an Uncharted Future.” The meeting marked a shift in tone as local leaders began to acknowledge that Napa’s wine industry has moved from expansion into maturity, with declining growth and shrinking margins. Experts presented data showing falling sales, reduced winery licenses and changing consumer behavior, while speakers warned that old strategies like marketing and deregulation may no longer be effective. Carl traced parallels to other single-industry towns and argued that Napa’s path forward requires adaptation, economic diversification and a renewed focus on sustaining local families. The piece emphasized acceptance as the necessary step toward long-term stability.
Jeni Olsen and Charlotte Hajer explored Napa County’s evolving approach to suicide prevention in “Stronger Together: A Community Approach to Suicide Prevention.” They outlined the work of the Napa County Suicide Prevention Council, which was formed in 2016 and recently launched a three-year strategic plan focused on prevention, intervention and postvention. Thousands of residents have been trained in the QPR method, while shifting attitudes are reducing stigma around mental health. The authors also recapped the county’s first Suicide Prevention Conference and previewed this year’s upcoming event in Yountville, which will include breakout sessions for high-risk groups and a keynote by Calistoga City Councilmember Lisa Gift. The article emphasized the role of community action in preventing suicide.
Jane Callier offered a preview of an educational community event in “Celebrate Harvest Season at the Master Gardeners’ Fall Faire.” Organized by the UC Master Gardeners of Napa County, the Fall Faire blends science, sustainability and seasonal celebration through interactive booths focused on topics such as insect identification, healthy soils, invasive species, firewise landscaping and climate-smart gardening. The event also includes demonstrations, children’s activities, a plant sale and guidance on growing winter vegetables. Designed as a family-friendly way to promote environmentally sound gardening practices, the faire aims to educate and engage residents of all ages.
Answer + Explanation
It means “seventh month”
The name September comes from the Latin septem, meaning seven. That made sense in the early Roman calendar, which began in March, making September the seventh month. When Julius Caesar reformed the calendar in 45 BCE and added January and February to the beginning, the month names stayed the same — even though they no longer aligned with their numerical roots. So September became the ninth month but kept its “seven” name — along with October (eight), November (nine) and December (10).
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Who knew some people get depressed in September? I too always looked forward to the beginning of school so I could see my friends again. And September 11 was first my wedding anniversary and later on the birth of a loved grandchild.
Thanks Glenda. I woke to cooler temps this morning in the high desert on the Western Slope in Colorado, and it instantly had me thinking of my childhood in the hinterlands of the Napa Valley. You nailed it.