storm day

It started with rumours - whispers of "hurricane coming" in the school hallways and conversations over weather at the dinner table. There were fingers crossed behind backs and hopeful grins, because there was one thing we all desired: a storm day. 

We were granted our wish, for the next morning, a single glimpse out the window sent everyone straight back under the blankets, like snails into their shells. Wind pushed and pulled at the trees, shook the walls of the house and made the windows moan. Branches littered yards and roads. Electricity abandoned us before  the morning coffee was even set to brew.

There are many ways that my Dad and I are alike: our adoration for literature, our witty tongues, our attraction to fruit... and our love for storms. I wasn't scared of the rattling windowpanes or the absence of power; in fact, I immensely enjoyed it. I scribbled in journals, sketched with watercolour pencils and leafed through novels all morning long.

When noon rolled around, we lugged up the camper stove from the basement, pulling forth dusty memories of marshmallows and hot dog buns eaten around the campfire. We ate our lunches during a game of Scrabble and watched the wind die down as the sun peeked out.

            When spent with the right people, storm days are almost as good as snow days. Almost!

i live for fall.

                                     I don't have many words today, but instead a quote:

                  "Life starts all over again when it gets crisp in the fall." -F. Scott Fitzgerald 

a return to routine.

The past three days have been so hectic in contrast to the leisure of summer that I've barely had time to catch my breath. It seems as if one moment I was sleeping in, lounging around, the next I was stuffing papers into my school locker and frantically hanging on to the rush of things. Once I'm home from school, slipping outdoors with my camera for even 15 minutes gives me a sense of overwhelming peace and comfort. I can easily lose myself in pressing the shutter button until I've found the perfect composition. But after 50 or 60 frames, it's time to hurry back inside and race to finish tasks before heading off to the next obligation.

The growing list of tasks and to-do's makes me frustrated and weary, but at the end of the day I am thankful for each and every blessing. Squares of dark chocolate to nibble on, a mother to hug tight and spend Friday nights watching Downton Abbey with, a pile of library novels at my bedside table and autumn rain that I secretly adore. I can't complain, because I am truly a very lucky girl.

                                Is anyone else sharing the struggle to fall back into school routine?

labor day.

It now seems that Autumn has truly rooted itself into our daily lives. The outside air nips at you and the leaves crackle under your foot. Our Labor Day was spent running in the before-noon sunlight, hunting for the last blueberries, drinking tea, eating warm meals and sitting in front of the first woodstove fire of the season. We pulled out all of the stops today, oh yes. Flannel pajamas? Check. Fuzzy socks? Check. Knitting? Check. We are fall people and we are good to go.

As I type, there is nothing but silence and the fire died out long ago. I'm ready to snuggle into bed with my novel, excited to see what the rest of September will bring.

saying good-bye.

Was it really over two months ago that I was sitting through the longest school assembly of my life, waiting on edge for the final dismissal to come and summer vacation to begin? Now, the wind blowing loudly past my open window hints of autumn and the floor is strewn with new shoebox lids, shopping receipts and shiny plastic binders. Today, I caught a glimpse of my profile in a mirror as we dawdled through the annual back-to-school shopping tasks. The girl in the reflection may have looked familiar, but her eyes were more wise and her expression more determined. Her shoulders displayed confidence and it was almost as if she had become a new person -- but I wouldn't let that trick you for a minute, because this girl never changed her identity, she only became true to it. The hands that fell at her sides had written many words and snapped thousands of photographs over the summer months and her face gained new lines from laughing and crinkles from smiling. I am very, very proud of the girl -- me -- in the mirror.

The past week has been spent wishing for colored leaves, pumpkin breads, knit layers and all things related to glorious fall. But now that September has come to replace the sweet season of summer, I'm holding on desperately to August like a child clings to their mother's skirts on the first day of kindergarten. I don't want to let go yet.

I don't want to let go of the late night reading and the peaches for breakfast. I am reluctant to part with the flowers in the garden, the meals spent outdoors and the many laughs shared. I hate to say good-bye to the long daylight hours, going barefoot and baking whenever I please. But I know that I must. I will raise my hand in farewell to the summer that has been so, so very good to me. I am grateful for everything that this summer has brought, and I can't deny the exciting things that fall will have to offer. Before I retreat to the cozy warmth of autumn, I'll share these last few summer frames that I hold so dearly.