The Summer I'll Remember

There's something mystical in the air and in my heart.
The weather is showing my emotions.” 
― Shabnam Sinha

*****

So. Yesterday, pretty near the middle of August, I sat upon our front porch with a long-sleeved shirt over a t-shirt and  drank coffee and read more from A House With Four Rooms while a 62 degree breeze tossed clouds around, revealing the sun at times. Then, just sitting there, I felt chilled and went inside the house.

I loved it. The 62 degrees, the peeks of sun and the overall crisp feeling of early Autumn. Yet sadly, some local friends are complaining at Facebook, moaning that Buffalo gets, like, five minutes of great weather a year.

Oh my.

Personally, I've treasured our summer, its many rains while we slept and its sunny, coolish days which make me look up into blue skies and feel ten-years-old and adventure-ish again. That's what I'll remember in years to come--all the mercy, the reprieve we were granted from horrible, hot days that normally would make me walk like I'm 95 and cling sadly to the air-conditioner. And music, all the music like this.  And this.  And this.

All those sweet, sunny 75 degree days, instead! Stepping around our yard, watching my flowers and plants grow, reading on the front porch while stealing glances at our wild bunnies in the shade and the birds fluttering at the feeders. Pausing to thank God for such do-able days and that I didn't have to lug our big air-conditioner inside from the porch, for our little one upstairs faithfully cooled our tiny house.

It's been a dreamy summer here beside our river down the street, one which I mostly spent alone-but-not-alone, another one of many where I did not take a 'real' vacation except the ones I created for myself within my home, within my town, within my imagination.

It was all lovely--and enough.

“Summer afternoon—summer afternoon; to me those have always been the two most beautiful words in the English language.” 
― Henry James

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