Our house faces north/northeast. I love to open the blinds first thing in the morning and as I do, I pay attention to where the sunlight hits the walls, furniture and floor. I think, soon, a patch of sunlight will fall here, then here, and eventually, it won’t shine there again until next year. Of course, it will shift throughout the house and land somewhere, but it’s small things like this which mark another end of the season. It just seems to happen faster in August.
Kids went back to school yesterday, or in some cases today. Facebook is flooded with first days of this, or that.
Another summer of sleeping late and playing outside till dusk, gone. Childhood rites of passage, i.e., the art of collecting lightning bugs, the thrill of camping outside, running full speed all day and feeding that youthful hunger later with hot dogs and s’mores roasted over a late summer night campfire, no more. The refreshing, thrilling moments of swinging out over a cool lake on a rope swing time and again, barefoot walks through a field, eating watermelon, riding bikes to the corner store, only a dim recollection. Everywhere, kids grin at parents (or scowl), with book bags slung over shoulders, sporting new shoes and shirts, fresh haircuts and scrubbed faces, while their younger siblings photobomb wanting to be part of the big day.
Vacation is over.
Already, migrations for some species of birds have begun. Yesterday I was standing out on my sidewalk in the early morning, waiting on Little Dog to do his business. I heard loud, raucous honking. I looked up just in time to see a large flock of Canada geese fly overhead in perfect formation, and so, where’s my camera? Inside. I wished I could have snapped that photo. It was impressive.
Canna lilies are bloomed out, our tomato plants, although still producing fairly well, have slowed, and the squash is long gone as is the watermelon vine. (that was actually an overgrown disaster we won’t try again.)
Soon, it will be this:
And before we know it, this:
Just the other day someone said, “it’s only 18 weeks until Christmas!” I’m fine, just fine with seasonal changes. I’m actually glad we have them, but CHRISTMAS – in eighteen weeks? That’s a bit much to handle. I’m still in my outside on the porch frame of mind. I’m still going on my runs in tank tops and shorts. Wearing flip flops, smelling of suntan lotion, and enjoying the heat of the sun on top of my head while I work outside. I’m still relishing the scent of roses, an errant magnolia bloom on our tree out front, and the sound of cicadas late evenings.
In other words, I’m still in a summertime frame of mind.