Cloudy skies during the morning hours followed by thunderstorms in the afternoon. Gusty winds and small hail are possible. High 79F. Winds S at 5 to 10 mph. Chance of rain 60%..
Scattered thunderstorms during the evening becoming more widespread overnight. Storms may contain strong gusty winds. Low 61F. Winds light and variable. Chance of rain 70%.
Their voices are but echoes in this rambling old house of mine. Following the month-long grandchildren events, we held a family reunion to celebrate the birthdays of Adam and Aaron.
The window of time was short … just four hours as their travel worlds collided in my yard for such a short amount of time. There were moments I held my breath wondering if it would really happen. My entire family had not been together for five years, and with delayed flights, I really did just hold my breath. But it happened.
We were all together in my backyard with an Indiana cookout! Everything was fresh from the farmers market from sweet corn to green beans to peach pie. When I was at the market, there were no green beans left. As I lamented the situation to Colleen Holman, she laughed and said not to worry. Indeed not. The next day she delivered two big bags of freshly picked beans from Karen Dalryrmple’s garden. You know you live in a small town when that happens.
With a glowing campfire and burgers on the grill, we sang, we laughed, we told stories, we took photos, we hugged one another. I pulled out all the leftover sparklers and everyone played … even the grown-ups. As deep, dark evening prevailed and the marshmallows all gone, we came into the house for parlor games sitting knee to knee in my living room.
The clock ticked toward midnight, but no one wanted the evening to end so we just kept going until the candles burned down. By morning, all were gone. Adam and Aaron, Rachel and Tara, all headed to Lake Michigan. It was finally time to say goodbye to the kids. It was all I could do to let them go. We all cried, really hard. Finally, with toys and clothes and children, Abe pulled out of my driveway leaving me standing there alone. Goodbyes are always hard, but this one more than usual.
The rain was a nice touch for my sadness. I looked around at the yard … oh my. I looked around at my house … oh my. The best thing to do was to lock the doors and just let it go until I was ready. The whole house needed to be cleaned from top to bottom … moving around furniture, scrubbing, dusting, pitching. And yet, inside of the work, came the complete joy of finding their forgotten treasures. I found unmatched socks, Mardi Gras beads, marbles, dead roses, shoes, books and Brianna’s pink shorts (she was sure she lost them!). Everything has been put into a box for shipment to Charleston!
The outside was next with deflating their swimming pool, gathering and storing their toys, putting chairs and tables back. When all was done, I picked a new bouquet for my table, and with a cup of tea, just sat back to contemplate. This summer was simply for stories and memories. I lived each moment to the fullest, and now time to move on to the rites of the end of summer.
As much as I dislike the heat of hot summer days, I love these days upon us now. Beautiful sunshine, cool nights. I even grabbed an extra quilt one night this week. Mid-August is a great garden time. Most of the work is finished, and all that is left is to enjoy the fruits of the garden. My sunflowers are tall. My morning glories wind and curl up over and around my picket fence. I have noticed the heavier dew in the morning this week, also.
It is time to pull out my copy of “Dandelion Wine” by Ray Bradbury. This book is always my go-to when school starts. I used to read it after Labor Day, but now with schools starting so early, I have to pull it out.
I go to the last chapter. I read to the boys. I read to my girls on Facetime. I try to just read the text without a lot of emotion, but that is impossible. I cry. Even though Bradbury wrote it about the summer of 1928, it applies today.
“They went down into the cellar with Grandpa. They looked at all the summer shelved and glimmering there in the motionless streams, the bottles of dandelion wine. Numbered from one to ninety-odd, one for every living summer day. What a swell way to save June, July and August. Grandfather smiled. This way, he said, you can live summer over for a minute or two here or there.”
Lou Ann Homan-Saylor lives in Angola at the White Picket Gardens where you can find her gardening or writing late into the night under the light of her frayed scarlet lamp. She is a storyteller, teacher, writer, actress and a collector of front porch stories. She can be contacted at locketoftime@aol.com.
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