Where, oh where has the summer gone? The inevitable signs of fall are in the air. Back-to-school ads are everywhere. Those annoying little green flies are back.
Weather forecasters are talking about frost. Cool dewy mornings and mist rising off the sloughs tell us change is in the air. The smell of hay bales, sweet clover, ripening crops are olfactory clues. I heard some geese yesterday. Could they be heading south already?
More significant perhaps are the human signs. The worn-out, beat-up, dragged out look so many of us are sporting. We’re on the losing end of the battle to keep the grass cut despite Roy spreading gravel on larger and larger areas each year. The rolls of lawn edging are still on the patio waiting for installation. I’m waiting for chickweed to be designated “the new ground cover.” It’s all semantics. If some expert said it was desirable, mine would die and I’d have to buy some at a greenhouse next year.
All my big plans for special projects (stain and assemble bookcases, totally redo our bedroom including laminate flooring, ready my studio for public viewing, start a lily bed) got pre-empted, in part, by the search for a roof over Hilary’s head, the move and subsequent shopping trip for missing items. Operation cleanup sapped us of time and energy and it ain’t over yet. My part-time job has grown from two days a week to something approaching full-time. Officiating at weddings has taken most of the summer’s Saturdays not to mention the time spent doing pre-wedding interviews and document preparation.
Promoting my paintings and art cards is another ongoing activity. For those of you waiting for my studio opening, please be patient, it’s going to happen.
It hasn’t been all work of course. There have been the parties — birthday, grad, farewell. There was George Strait.
What there hasn’t been is any down time. Just chillin’ time. Time to read a book or take an afternoon nap. Time to go to a flea market or our favorite Chinese restaurant. I got a lovely three-seater garden swing for my 50th birthday in March. I spent more time assembling it than I have sitting on it. Couldn’t I please just sit on it and look at the clouds or flowers or nothing at all?
Another summer has gone by without attending the Fringe or Big Valley, visiting the antique mall or Rock ‘n August car show or … Another summer has flown by without a day trip to a lake.
In what parallel universe do people actually work their way through a summer reading list preferably at a lakefront cabin or on a beach? How do some people manage to relax on a chaise lounge with a cooler and a sun hat? How do some people manage to get away for a few days or a couple of weeks and leave all the work behind? It’s gotta be different next year, from where I sit.
*Reprinted with permission