Isn't there supposed to be an Indian Summer or Dog days of summer or a few days where you are just Sick Of It and say enough already, bring on Winter?
When I was younger, still a kid in school, summertime seemed endless. June was pure joy. We'd get out of school and rejoice in the new freedoms that having a wide open schedule provided.
We lived out in the country then and playtime was whatever you could come up with, OUTSIDE, without formal transportation or money. Mom's realm was inside the house and she made sure we knew that she was not a taxi service. My nearest friend lived about a mile away and by bike, horseback or on foot we'd meet "halfway" to see what the day would bring. Often that meant cutting through several apple orchards and berry patches where we'd eat our fill on the way to our "day job". The Creek.
The creek was where life happened during the summer. It was full and rushing with the heavy Spring rain. Our days were busy with swimming, catching polywogs, exploring. The creek never got old. We loved it, and by July we'd be beating the path to the creek nearly every day. Life was good!
By August, the monotony of the endless days and lack of variety started to wear on us. School was still a month out, starting the day after Labor Day, so there was still plenty of time and imaginations were running thin. The creek would be starting to dry up. The polywogs would become frogs and hop away. The orchards, still loaded with heavy fruit, were no longer appealing. We'd be sick of apples by this time.
These were the dog days of summer. We just wanted it over at this point. We'd be looking forward to seeing all our friends again, after a whole summer of isolation. There was no internet and no cell phones. We literally lost all contact with people not in our immediate vicinity. School was our primary Social Network and we missed it. We couldn't wait to go back!
30 years later. Ack! The summer feels like water slipping through my hands. It doesn't seem to last very long and there is no way to hold onto it. Faster than I am ready to admit, it becomes a memory. As the skies get darker and the days shorter, I find myself dreaming of a time when the days and possibilities seemed endless.
No, Winter, I am not ready for you yet. I'm still needing a few more days of sunlight and no expectations. I have more apples to eat, berries to pick and frogs to catch. There are bikes and horses to ride, barrels to roll, hay to climb...
Where did the time go?
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