Doldrums

If this last week had been a Shakespearian play, it would have been the comic relief provided by the rustics; it would have been the bridge in a pop single; or the quiet chapters where Harry, Hermione and Ron land at Shell Cottage to regroup. It is not really summer but not yet fall, neither warm and sunny nor cold and rainy. Indeed, the temperature has not varied much from day to night, leaving the weather pundits to tell us that we are average, but we note our tans are already fading.

So it was with glee that we noticed a strong shaft of sunlight pouring across the breakfast table this morning. One last hurrah of summer, we think, as we coax Little One out of bed for the long trek to day camp on the farm. He sees the sun and tells me he needs no breakfast, for he is sure they will make popsicles on such a fine day.

We’ll indulge in a bit more summer, picking berries, arts in the park, camping, and even a trek down to Gramma, who has real summer where she lives. Soon enough, we will start back to setting alarms, packing lunches and getting out the door on time. Just not quite yet.