The days are, sadly, getting shorter as autumn firmly settles in and winter isn’t far behind. The evenings and mornings are chillier and the Seattle mist is becoming more frequent and more like rain. Life around here has been a little hectic, and it’s not likely to calm down anytime soon, especially with the holidays just around the corner. But, for now, it’s Saturday, the sun is shining, the Fall colors are beautiful, and tonight we get to have dinner with a friend we haven’t seen in a year–we don’t see him or his wife often enough because we’re on opposite sides of the country. So, tonight will be a treat.
I grew up in the deep, deep South. Summers–and most of the year–were filled with thick, suffocatingly hot days and the nights were only marginally cooler, sometimes. I was a kid, I didn’t notice. There was a pool to cool off in or a popsicle or ice cream to eat; and, there was fun to be had. Most of my summer breaks included weeks on end at my grandparents house in a tiny town in Louisiana called Mt. Hermon. My mom had grown up there; my grandparents owned a farm–it was my grandfather’s family dairy farm. The summers were, at least in my 41-year old memory, idyllic. Rolling farm land, big sweeping magnolia trees that provided welcome shade to the swing sets sitting beneath their branches, a pool where all the grandkids would spend hours, and the noise of the ice cream churn in the background. It was wonderful and, I know, it was so very hot, but, I didn’t care. Continue reading