I admit it. I have been looking forward to school starting.
I say this with some measure of guilt, as I recall my mother saying that she always felt sad when we had to go back to school. In truth, when I picture my three little ones peacefully playing together, or curled up with new library books, or spending an afternoon spraying each other with the hose, entertaining themselves, I wish the summer could go on a little longer. But when I think of the more frequent scenarios of them following me all day, begging for television and snacks, interrupting me on the phone, pulling things out as fast as I put them up, and fighting incessantly, I'm grateful for the upcoming structure and schedule. It will be good for everyone.
It's not just stir crazy kids that make me long for the change of seasons. It's been too hot to go outside, too hot even to swim, the air quality so poor it's like breathing cotton. I'm sick of slathering everyone with sunscreen, wiping popsicle drips, suggesting fun and interesting activities to an unreceptive audience. We're housebound as Minnesota pioneers in winter, but without the scenery. Air conditioners just don't provide the ambiance of a crackling fire.
The catalogs are coming in the mail, laden with images of crisp days and autumn leaves, making the oppressive heat even less bearable. Our grass is brown, our spindly trees struggling for life, and everything in my garden has been decimated by Japanese beetles. Summer keeps hanging around like a guest you wish would leave. I'm ready for the date to be over.
Let fall come. I'm ready for whatever paltry showing the leaves will make, for apples, pumpkins, for a drive in the mountains. Set the clocks back. If we must hunker down, let it be because it's dark, and cool.
