Day 177 — I like that number – 177 — something kind of neat about it — neat as in tidy, not neat as in ‘cool’. It’s interesting counting the down the days of the year like this. The number doesn’t seem all that big, but when you think about it — that’s one hundred and seventy seven days of getting up, going to work, packing a lunch, buttoning a coat, brushing your hair, fixing breakfast, stopping to get gas, and on and on and on.
Well, today is the end of the getting up and going to work and packing a lunch part for me. At least for the next two months. Yes, today is freedom day! That big ol’ carrot is dangling within reach now, I can almost sink my teeth into it. I’m sure today will go quickly and then I’m going to come home and sit on my deck with a cold beer in hand (if the sunshine holds that is) and ponder the joys and possibilities of the next eight weeks.
So, this is my last Wednesday of summer holidays. Tomorrow will be my last Thursday and Friday my last. . .
. . .you get the picture.
I hate that summer and summer holidays have to end. I live for summer, it’s my time of year. Spring and Fall are nice, Winter totally sucks (except for the occasional beautiful day), but Summer, when it has been as fabulous as this one has (and even when it hasn’t) is the best season of all.
But it saddens me immensely when it’s over.
I guess it’s the kid in me, not wanting the endless days of sunshine and fun and warm, soft breezes; barbecued hamburgers and corn on the cob; walks to get ginormous ice-cream cones from the local ice-cream shop; the sound of kids on bikes and frogs in ponds; hawks circling high overhead, their piercing calls cutting through the heat-faded blue of a summer’s afternoon; the bone-shaking rattle of thunder, and lightning so bright it makes you wince in wonder and fear; the soft patter of rain on a sultry summer evening — the sense of relief and joy that bit of cool respite brings; flowers in the garden; tomatoes fresh and warm off the vine, their juices running sweet down your chin as you bite into them whole; family gathered on the deck laughing, eating, drinking; beer in coolers; wine in fancy plastic glasses; all of this and more — I can’t stand the heartbreak of it ending.
But, end it must. Like Arthur’s Camelot it is but a brief and shining moment. A moment that will sustain me through the long wait for its return.
Here’s a sampling of images from summers past and present: