It’s almost over. Which means that it’s almost my favorite time of the year. I’ve raved about fall and all its splendor and glory before on my blog. And I still stand by my praises.
Fall around here is wonderful. The humidity vacates the area, the mosquitos die off. The mornings and evenings have just the tiniest bit of briskness in the air. And then, later on, the sweaters come out. Or ‘on’ I should say. It’s fabulous.
People retreat inside to crock pot meals and football. And the autumn is a nice stretch of time with no major holidays, only lots of autumnal themed drinks at Starbucks and getting to enjoy the days that are still perfectly pleasant outside – no sweat required.
I know that fall eventually leads to Christmas and then (hum-drum) to the bleak wintertime beyond the holiday season.
And no, I’m not particularly a fan of winter. At all. We don’t get snow around here so much as a lot of grey days that end up being wet somehow and leaves you berated with a ton of bone chilling wind. That’s pretty much it. If we’re lucky, we get one snowstorm a season. And I am sure that there are some folks who would take issue with my using the word “lucky” to describe ANYTHING related to winter and/or a snowstorm. But I’m going to stick with that word for now. Ask me what I think of it come late January.
But for the next several months, I’m going to try to soak up as much as I can. And I’m also going to try this thing for the next 12 months (and let’s hope forever) where I don’t wish the days away so that I can get to something “better.” I’m learning more and more that it’s where you are at the moment, rather than what you’re worried about (or pining over) for tomorrow. No, there isn’t much that excites me about the dead of winter, but I’m not going to think about that now.
My gears got grinding earlier today when my children each received a balloon from a function after church services were through. Clara was delighted. She squealed with utter joy and marveled at the balloon tied around her tiny wrist. Although that only lasted for about two minutes before she wanted to pluck the string from her arm and simply hold the balloon herself. My son was nerve wracked over something and it took a few minutes for me to figure out why.
Once Clara had the balloon off of her wrist, all that he could do was fret over the fact that Clara might slip up and let it go (granted this worry isn’t unfounded, it’s happened plenty of times before, and probably to other parents as well.) And then, he conceded, it would float away and be gone forever. He spent this entire car ride home worrying and crying (literally) over what MIGHT happen if Clara wasn”t careful.
I’m not sure if he’s over it yet, but it took some coaxing and admonishing him to enjoy what he had, while he had it for him to calm down. That and we are just keeping the balloons inside in the meantime.
But aren’t we all like that? We get to a place where we would like to be (and truthfully, sometimes where we DON’T want to be) and we fret over what may or may not happen. We bemoan our days away because of where we are, and how it’s not what we want.
It robs us of our joy and opportunity in the present. It distracts us from living fully. Kids do it, and over balloons at that, but grownups do it all the more. And it’s sad. And so, while summer and all of its mosquitos are NOT my favorite things at all, I’m going to work on not wishing the days away. I’m going to work on this whole savoring thing. And when the days turn cold (you all can remind me of my famous last words later on) I’m going to try to relish in them, even though I’ll be silently counting down the days to April.
To celebrate summer, here are a few of my favorite pictures. OK, so I lied, it’s not really just a few. But it’ll have to do.
Happy Sunday, everyone! And happy back to school week, whether your children attend school or you home school them. Many blessings on your school year ahead, parents and kiddies! Learn well and learn lots!