09 18 11 Three Days Left

I’m sitting here this morning, smack dab in the middle of my house, in the laundry room, and my toes are starting to feel a little chilly. Could it be? Is summer winding down already? Is this the start of another long grueling frigid winter season?

Well, let me tell you all, I am not ready for it in the least. I was just starting to get used to wearing tank tops and shorts. I like wearing tank tops and shorts. I like it a lot! I want my tank tops and shorts, no socks please!

Focus.

Deep Breath.

I know, I know. There are some people out there right now hollering, “Move South You Old sockless Billy Goat! Move South!” Believe me, I hear you loud and clear. It seems that every year I think about it more and more.

I have always lived up here in the north east, and I have visited down south. It seems so foreign to me down there. It is flat, and it just doesn’t even seem to be the same country. It’s just so different.

We have lived out here next to the corn fields and woods for a quarter of a century, and it has become part of me. From the sounds of a rooster a mile up the road that used to greet me every morning when I walked the dogs, to the way my hair on the back of my neck stood up when I would hear the packs of coyotes at night while walking the dogs. It has all become who I am. I don’t think that I will ever be able to rid myself of this place I call home. I don’t know that I would ever want to.

Even now that I can not see any of it, for the most part, I know it is there, and it will always be there. I still smell the smells, hear the sounds, and feel the life that this home of ours has continuously breathed into my soul for so many years.

There are a lot of memories from over the years that play a big part, and those memories are mine and ours and this house’s. Our home turned 100 years old back in 2006. You can tell. There isn’t a straight line in the house. I know. After trying to put new wall board up in the kitchen, I can attest to the crooked nature of this old house. I guess that’s what gives it it’s character. The more time and repair and refurnishing that we seemed to put into this house, the more I realized that we will probably never finish fixing it up.

No matter how much time and effort and money and change we put into this old house, it will always remain, “Our House”. I suppose even after we have moved on and past it.

I have driven past my childhood home in Little Falls a few times as an adult. It seems eerily familiar to me. I sat out front of the house one day, and I could see us kids running around the corner of the house, yelling and screaming and just being kids. I could see myself out in the driveway in the winter, shoveling waste deep snow for what seemed like a week and a half straight. I can still see our dog Scruffy making a bee line for the house after rolling in the manure pile up in Stevens’ barn, sorry Mom, but I can still see it. Smile. I could see us playing hide and seek. I could still feel the simple feelings of home. It was my home back then, and somehow, as I sat there in my car, staring at the house, it still felt like my home, thirty five years later. As I sat there, I could still hear the four thirty whistle from the mill down town. It was a wonderfully strange feeling.

Where was I?

Oh yes, the weather. I am thinking about pulling out my sweat pants this morning. I am also thinking about putting socks on.

I am still thinking.

Nope. I just can’t do it! I will hang on to the summery feeling for as long as I can. There are three days left until summer is over, and the fall solstice comes into view. Darn you fall solstice. Darn you! Why can’t we go from summer right into spring?

I always did like the winter when I was a youngstah. I was always out in it, gobbling it up in huge chunks. I loved the winter, and relished the frigid days.

They seem to have held a different feeling for me back then. I can still taste a pinch of that wonderful childhood pie recipe from those edible days of my youth. I can still taste it, and find myself licking my lips. The memories are that good.

Boy my toes are cold.

Focus.

Ok, I am back. I am still in my shorts and tee shirt. Yes, I crumbled under the pressure and put a tee shirt on this morning, instead of a tank top. Phase one complete. Transformational seasonal chilling engaged.

I want my summer back please! Yes, I said, “My Summer.” As far as I am concerned, it is mine. It has always been mine, and will always be mine. You can go and find your own please. This one is all mine. I consider myself a selfish greedy little pig hog when it comes to my summer. Yes, I said, “My” summer. It has always been mine, and no one else’s. If you happen to find some summer for yourself, then great! Good for you! Just leave mine alone!

No, I am just kidding. Of course you can have some of mine.

NOT! Stay back! Mine! Mine! Mine!

Ok, ok, sorry. Lost my head there for a moment.

My summers still live inside me, and I live inside this house. All in the same, and one along with the other.

Don’t ask me to explain that one, because I can’t.  Just accept that I know exactly what I meant.

I truly hope you have all been able to grab hold of as much of this summer as possible. It truly is an amazing time of year, and holds some of the best memories for me, as I am sure it does for you all as well.

Man, my toes are cold. Wicked cold.

The sun is out this morning.

I think I will go sit out on the front steps and warm up my feet in the morning sun for a bit.

Yup, that’s what I am going to do.

You all have a great summer day. Grab hold of it, drink it up, and take it all in. Three summer days left. Three whole days!

Yee- haw.