When women gush about how much they love Fall, deep down, it feels like they must be lying. I just don't get it.
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It was a lovely summer at our house. Well, we spent any extra vacation money getting our chimneys repointed (ugh!), replacing a crapped-out air conditioner (ugh!!), and continuing to pay off three floors of new windows (!!!) so we spent a lot of time just relaxing at home.
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But it really was lovely, especially after a stressful year in 2018. This year, a pair of song sparrows made a nest by our front door, and I was lucky to discover the nest the moment their first baby hatched from an egg and stretched his little neck towards the sky. I got to watch its siblings grow from helpess pink newborns to fuzzy-headed babies to fully-feathered birds, who blinked at me for a few days before flying off. I cried when they left.
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Our butterfly garden attacted monarch butterflies, friendly tigertails, iridescent red spotted purples, and — jackpot — hungry little hummingbirds.
My husband Billy taught me the joys of sitting on our deck. Previously, I couldn't understand why anyone would choose to sit where it's hot, but this summer, I soaked up our sun. I discovered how time slows down with a good book in the sunshine, and how lightly toasted skin feels loved and luxurious even hours later. Also, the smell of suntan lotion makes me instanty happy.
I walked our dog Abigail, slipping into sandals and heading out, free from the burdens of boots and bulky coats. I ran into neighbors who were happy to be outside and happy to share the latest news. I befriended a neigborhood kitten, and a guinea pig who gets to go for evening strolls. (The guinea pig belongs to Joan, a woman who's lived here long enough to tell me the history of my house.)
The sunshine greeted me with my alarm at 6am. It shone brightly through my 6pm commute, then stretched daytime well past dinner and into perfectly pink-and-purple evenings. On the fourth of July, Billy and I realized we could sit on the steps on the side of our house and watch fireworks light up the sky. No traffic, no crowds, just Billy, me, and the fireflies.
I bobbed in the wave pool, decorated the inside of my house with flowers from my yard, and made jugs of sun tea. I made one batch on my birthday, and imagined that the tea was my personal elixer of pure birthday joy.
My potted jasmine, which threatens to die every winter, rejoiced outside, filling the evening air with its perfume.
It rained sometimes, and I discovered that our deck is perfecly perched on top of the best hill for seeing rainbows.
But now summer is ending, and with it, the music festivals and fun events, escaping from work while it's still light out, and roaming the world free from socks and layers.
But I guess some people like dark mornings, wet dead leaves, and sweating inside a coat in line at the pharmacy. As much as cloyingly sweet lattes and back-to-school traffic and empty pools, dismal and drained for the season.
Sure.
I love summer, and I miss it already!
