The Night Summer Came

I sat there in the living room with him in the hours of pausing between the weeks. The rain, the clouds, the work, the relief of finally knowing from the previous week. The forecast of sun and heat, the plans, the hope, the work of the upcoming week. The kids in bed slumbering, so tired. Just him and I in this small window of quiet, enjoying a casual special supper for the two of us, a Sunday evening tradition that seems to become more and more infrequent with each passing year.

The windows were all open, the soft evening breeze fluttering in. We noticed our birch tree turn pink. The birds sang louder. The breeze quieted. Everything suddenly still.

Something was happening.

We went out to the deck to take it all in. The red sky glowed around us, the humidity a heavy blanket encompassing us. Every leaf, every twig, every flower softly defined in the evening's glow. Everything poised and looking its best for the arrival.

Nothing moved, nothing breathed, as if any sudden motion would scare it away. Summer, that is. An illusive creature this year.

Quietly she settled on us that evening as we watched. My soul breathed a sigh of relief. For weeks now I had been making it happen, all the motions of summer without the actual presence of summer; donning summer clothes when it was too chilly, taking kids to the beach when it was too cloudy, planting seeds when it was too wet..... hoping against hope that summer would really happen and I wouldn't have to bravely fake it 'til fall.

There's no saying she's gonna stay now for a few months like she should. But for this week, I will soak it up, let summer happen around me instead of me making it happen.

And when, after weeks, my soul finally feels light, I will let every second penetrate my being. I will let the small things bless. I will not hurry.

And I will list.

#291. four-wheeler rides on Father's Day
#292. two tots and an uncle on one four-wheeler
#293. Momma, Daddy, and a tot on another four-wheeler
#294. trading tots out in the hay field
#295. the husband pausing here and there to share childhood stories with me: "I fell out of that tree." "That was our fort." "I took out a fence here." "We spent hours here skating, swimming, getting chiggers...."
#296. the tot sitting quietly, just listening to the stories with no questions, complaints, or demands, soaking up his roots
#297. going for daily walks down the gravel road with the little girl to pick wild flowers
#298. jars of wild flowers gracing our table
#299. dunking cookies into milk with my tots
#300. the brother-in-law stopping by to help put up the garden fence
#301. running out to the garden to snap the first of the spinach leaves to add to a morning smoothie
#302. forgetting to close the gate on my new garden fence and laughing at myself
#303. early morning walks/runs with the dog
#304. tired tots falling asleep in my arms before they even hit the pillow
#305. the smell of freshly picked rhubarb