Summer's Waning

The ending of the summer is a bittersweet time of year for some, but a time of celebration for others. It also heralds one of the 2 natural "beginnings" we have each year. I'm referring, of course, to the start of the school year and the actual "new year" on January 1st.

For me, summer's end is an odd mix of both regret and anticipation. I always feel that perhaps I should have gotten more accomplished throughout the summer (how "type A" is that attitude?) and feel a twinge of regret that the hot sun of August will be leaving soon. Now mind you, we haven't exactly been "scorched" with the heat of the sun this year, but indulge me here.

There's something almost magical about the advance of autumn in Ontario... the glorious rich greens giving way to oranges and reds on the trees, the lovely little thrill you get as you make your daily trip out to harvest from your garden and find a new treasure to enjoy with supper, and of course the invigorating smell of fallen leaves and bonfires wafting in windows that have been too long closed against the summer's heat.

In summer's last "hurrah", we find ourselves rushing to fit in just a few more things and here in Caledon, the end of summer is a very busy time. We have numerous events that take place within this seasonal window and we always try to catch as many of them as we can, squeezing it all in between the inevitable "back-to-school" shopping and last minute play dates.

Amongst all of this season ending activity, I always try to do some canning. This is something I started a few years ago, and have grown to love. I have made an effort to add one new and simple preserve each year. This year, in addition to my dills (now a family favourite) and beets, I learned how to put down peaches using my Grandma Ives's recipe, graciously supplied (along with the gift of some glorious Leamington peaches) by my Aunt Grace. My children loved them so much that I will be traipsing back to a local purveyor of produce to get some more... the 6 litres I just finished are certainly not going to be enough to keep the troup's "peach-i-fied" all winter.

And as summer fades away and autumn rushes up to greet us, I'll once again be grateful to live in a country with changing seasons. In closing, I'll leave you with a charming little verse I found. I searched for its author, but sadly found none, but it sums up my feelings quite nicely.

"Good-night to the Season! Another will come, with its trifles and toys. And hurry away like its brother, In sunshine, odor and noise."

Where the Other Socks Go!

For the curious among you, I can finally lay to rest an age old mystery that has plagued mankind for as long as anyone can remember. I would venture that everyone has heard at least one person lamenting over the way one sock from each pair can suddenly, mysteriously and usually permanently disappear into thin air. And I think its safe to say we all agree that it is the dryer that "eats them"... but no one ever knew where they went - until now.

Well, I now know where those missing socks go - and have definitive proof to back up my claim. It appears that they were all underneath my son's bed! Who knew?! How they got from the dryer to the dark wasteland under his bed is the real mystery... perhaps a tear in the fabric of time or a black hole? Or maybe gremlins or aliens...

Whatever the cause, somehow a motley assortment of unmatched foot wear of varying sizes and colours has manifested itself under there, along with some of his underwear, an astounding number of long discarded toys, sheets of paper with ONE line of writing on them, pens with the "business" part missing, lego pieces, game cartridges.... I could go on, but I'm sure you get the idea.

I am chagrined to note that there was a significant amount of what I'll refer to as "fossilized organic" material under the bed too. By "organic", I mean "used to be food", by "fossilized", I mean... well - "fossilized". Totally free of moisture, shrivelled, devoid of any remaining similarity to something you could actually identify, this little food graveyard took me completely by surprise.

Now anyone who knows me will tell you that I am not (nor will I ever be) Martha Stewart. I wish. Given my own slap-dash personality and the type of life our family leads, even suggesting a similarity between me and the undisputed queen of advanced planning and organization would cause my sisters (and certain close cousins & friends) to really "rotfl" their respective "ao".

No, I live the life of a "just in time, guerilla" housekeeper. That is to say, if you plan to drop by our place for coffee.... don't just jump in the car - call first and give me time to tidy up (and it might be a good idea if you bring the coffee with you). If you are coming to stay overnight, I need several days notice. But I do try to keep the germ count to acceptable limits, and we have a strict no food in the bedroom rule... which brings us back to our topic - how on earth did my "DS" (Darling Son) manage to sneak this illicit midnight repast into his room? I suspect he may be a candidate for a career in "overt operations" some day.

I will say that "DS" has a captains bed, which, by the way, I do not recommend for "just in time, guerilla" housekeepers with young sons. I say this for a couple of reasons: captains beds are a pain to move and clean underneath, and they have lots of "hidy holes" and secret "stashing places".

So, after I spent the requisite amount of time making faces and gagging noises and uttering "motherly expletives", DS & I spent a rather unpleasant afternoon cleaning, disinfecting and putting things back together. Then I spent some additional time lecturing a remarkably unrepentant 11 year old on the dangers of stockpiling snack food under your bed (ie: the potential for bugs, sticky messes, what will the neighbours think....germs... did I mention the potential for bugs?). I suspect it might be a good idea if I do a weekly spot check for a while.

And now I'm sitting here with that colourful pile of socks (which are also unrepentant, I might add)... wondering how the heck a person without access to a black hole can get them all back to their rightful owners?

Anyone with ideas should post them to the comments section of this blog entry!

Note: It is now 8 hours after I initially wrote this blog. I just passed the bedroom door of "DS" and found a sheet of paper with one line of writing on it: "OFF LIMITS TO ALL BLOG WRITERS WRITING ANYTHING ABOUT DARLING SONS". I guess I asked for that one. ; )

"Weather" we like it or not

Since the fortunes have decreed that we shall be wet and chilly this summer, I - along with the rest of the general population - have been faced with the problem of how to “do” summer in the rain.


I’ve been complaining about it right along with everyone else, but obviously, it isn’t something we have any control over. It’s not a situation we are faced with that often, thank goodness, but it does required some creative thinking to work around.


For instance, lets consider drying laundry this summer. I’ve tried very hard to avoid using my dryer for the last couple of years… preferring, whenever possible, to use my clothes line. To say that’s been challenging this summer would be an understatement. It has rained while the sun is out several times, catching me standing beside the line full of clothes I just finished hanging out.
But I’ve found a way around the dilemma. By half drying my laundry in the dryer, then draping the semi-wet laundry on all the upright surfaces in the house, I cut down on dryer time without having to hang clothes in the rain. Mind you, our house sometimes looks like a department store blew up around here… but I have kids - I’m used to that.


Keeping the lawn green is usually the challenge for August, but our grass is healthy and lovely this year. Keeping it under control is quite another story. We are fortunate, because we live on a hill with great soil drainage. That means our grass dries out quite quickly after a rainfall… that is, in typical summer conditions.


In recent weeks though, if the sky clears at all, we find ourselves racing like a madman for the mower, in case we miss that 35-50 minute window of opportunity and it’s starts to rain again. If we decide to check the mailbox first, we sometimes find ourselves waiting three more days for another dry day.


In keeping with the “glass half full” attitude that I try stoically to maintain, I have given the matter some serious thought and discovered that rainy summers do have a few good things going for them…


· The summer reading list will be complete a couple of weeks early.
· The gardens are lovely (if a trifle neglected in the “weed” department)
· We’re using less hydro, because the a/c is off most days.
· We’re getting really good at jigsaw puzzles!
· And I finally got to use my cool, purple-flowered umbrella!


So the summer won’t be a total loss after all!

Serendipity

I've been mulling over the passage of time and - I'll be honest - obsessing over the mulititude of things that have changed about me and my life over the years. I suppose this is an inevitable 'taking stock' that happens when you enter the middle years. And of course when you take stock of things, you inevitably visit the past...

I was raised in a very mobile family - we moved a lot... and I have to stress the term "A LOT": it was something like 30 times, if you count moving from "house" to "house". And if I sit and count the actual towns we lived in on my fingers, I run out of fingers fairly quickly. All that moving made making friends very difficult, and the few friends I did manage to make were often lost to yet another move. Staying in touch was difficult, onerous in those days of snail mail and party-lines.

When you grow up that way, you end up having many, many acquaintances, but few true friends. And until I went to college and met up with my beloved "chicks" (a story for another day), that is how it was.

I've often wondered what happened to a few of my friends from those days... but today's story centers on one friend in particular: his name was Allen. In high school, I remember spending lunches and spares eating really awful fries and even worse gravy while laughing and joking with a small group of kids. Allen was one of that group. He had a very quick wit and was a lot of fun to be around.

One memory in particular sticks with me - I remember that Allen often wore cozy, velour pullovers during the winter, and a couple of us girls would stroke the arm of his shirt, and make a big fuss over how soft it felt. (Hey, it was the 70's... we had all spent far too many years wearing gaberdeen pant suits that were stitched together by our mothers and our aunts. That kind of fashion torture does things to your mind.) Allen was by no means a stupid lad, and quickly began trying to figure out how to get himself a pair of velour slacks.

We lost touch after high school, but as years went by, I'd often wondered where the winds of fate had taken him, hoping they'd been kind.

Then the other day, serendipity... Allen contacted me via Facebook, just to say hello. I was thrown for a moment as I absorbed the fact that the cheeky, irreverant, tow-headed teenager I remember had become a minister (!), but I quickly realized that Allen wasn't much different than he'd been in school. Funny, smart, relaxed... just Allen.

Then it hit me... I'm not that different from the "high school me" either. I still enjoy a good laugh, like being part of a group, love all things creative or artistic, get totally lost in a good book... I worry a bit too much... can't stay organized or on task to save my life... I have way too much hair (it's a lot "lighter" than it used to be, mind you). I haven't changed much at all.

I read somewhere recently of a woman who stated her age as 22... with 25 years of experience... and that sums up precisely how I feel. I am still exactly the same person I've always been, just nicely mellowed by my years of experience.

What a relief to realize that! Now I can relax and stop obsessing over the "lies" a piece of reflective glass has been whispering in my ear!

SLUMP WEEK

If Wednesday can be known universally as “hump day”, then I believe that the first week of August should be forever-more referred to as “SLUMP week”… that nasty week in mid-summer when you suddenly realize that the summer is more than half over and you haven’t gotten to even half of the “absolutely, positively going to do this” items on your summer to do list.
We start experiencing “SLUMP week” when we are children going to school. As kids, the sobering realization that there are only 24 or 25 days remaining until school starts again is enough to spur a frenzied round of play-dates and trips to Wonderland.
It is during this week that parents are routinely berated for wasting precious summer daylight hours by doing totally superfluous and unnecessary things like tending to personal hygiene, earning a living or grocery shopping. Why, during “SLUMP week”, even the hint of rain is cause for wailing and gnashing of teeth. How dare it rain when precious summer hours are draining away like so much fine sand through the hourglass of life…?
Speaking of rain, (yes… I am going to go “THERE”, but I’ll try to be brief) this year, “SLUMP week” is particularly hard to bear, because we haven’t really had much summer weather at all. In fact, I'll go as far as o suggest that - if the months were named after the weather we’ve had - this year to date would go something like this:
January, February, March, March, April, April, May.
Now it remains to be seen how the month of August will go, but based on the first 4 days, I’m not feeling very optimistic. I’m awfully concerned that we may be stuck in May for another blasted month.
But getting back to our original topic… I think I’m going to have to do something drastic to pull us all out of our mid-summer slump. With that in mind, I’ve already initiated the “lets visit your cousins” gambit and scheduled that much anticipated annual visit as something to look forward to - knowing that an event you WANT to happen (2 days visiting with cool, older cousins) will take MUCH longer to arrive than an event you could very well live without (the dreaded start of yet another school year).
So now I have to get serious... I need to start working on getting a few of those items on the summer “to do” list crossed off so the first week of September doesn’t end up being “DOWN IN THE DUMP” week.
Happy “SLUMP week”!