Before Fall, Summer

Summer is good, when the children are out of school, when there are adventures to be had, and roads to travel. I like summer when we can go to see fireflies, visit grandmothers, pick garden tomatoes, and play in the surf. But as soon as classes are back in session, and we've unpacked the last of the camping gear, I wish for it to be fall, body and soul. I crave brisk mornings, foggy evenings, overcast days, and stormy nights. I pine for the kind of weather and activities we aren't likely to ever enjoy, here. Not in Southern California. Not during a drought. And perhaps most especially, not when it's mid-august, or early September. Summer is good, and I say this with a smile that is slightly forced, because what I really like is fall. And what I really know is that "fall" in Southern California can be the hottest, driest, most wind-blown, fire prone, parched and anxious season of the year, and very little like the Pinterest boards I pin to, with frosted, fallen leaves, wool wraps, mist covered lanes, tree lined and romantic.

Yes, I do seem to mostly endure this time of year, the heat, the hotness, the heat. I do pass many moments in reverie of sights and weather that may not come until December, or March. And I bide my time, imagining the first cold day and the first baked pie, the first night when I can lay a quilt on the bed, and tuck myself under it. Those thoughts make me shiver in happy anticipation. And in the meantime, I say to anyone within earshot, the best part of summer, here, is the sky, and those back country views, where the summer storms hover above the mountains, with thunderheads that rise into towering giants. I love looking east, and seeing the show, the grandeur of cumulonimbus. We have lots more summer to go, maybe clear into November, and Santa Anas, those scorching winds that blow off the deserts, through mountain passes and into our homes. But hopefully we'll get more of those billowing clouds and colossal thunderheads that fill the eastern sky. Maybe we'll chase one down, and get rained on, thoroughly soaked, and charged with the goodness of summer.

I love our summer skies.

Those clouds. The hope that a summer storm may wander our way.

Summer has it's merits and good points, but I am so very ready for fall.

Mister Foo understands my state of mind, body, and soul. He knows what it means to endure these days that press us with heat, and lay us flat. Hang in there, Washburn Foo. Before fall, we just gotta survive summer.