Summer and Winter are the two seasons I hate the most. They are on opposite spectrums of the temperature grades and equally long and weary in their oppressiveness. But Spring and Fall? Oh, yes, give me those all year around, please. Spring brings with it the smell of clean air and new life, a thawing to the wintery world of ice-glazed roads and snow-covered sidewalks where boots are a staple and cold is an understatement.
But my favorite time of the year is Fall. I want my whole life to exist in the Fall. Where Summer brings a clean air smell, Fall brings a crisp, smoky air that just begs to be sucked into one’s lungs. I look forward to Fall with such great anticipation. The turning leaves, the simmering soups, the jackets that may or may not be needed, and the sun, even the sun seems to shine a bit differently, more sparkly almost, as if it’s trying to eek out another degree of heat before Winter zaps it’s energy completely. Along with Fall comes college football and the thrill of the scarlet & gray jerseys that are fresh, new, and have not yet had earth wedged into their small cloth creases. Fall brings so many things.
That being said, it seems only fair to give Summer it’s honest farewell and bid it au revoir. So that’s just what we did. We trekked back to Ankeny, Iowa to visit Kevin’s family over the weekend and partied to the end of Summer, beginning of jobs for some, moving for others, babies to others, and a good ol’ “Get the heck out of here, Humidity” to all.
It was Margaritaville at it’s finest.
So we lit those candles and ate that food, the finest you’ve ever tasted, a spread that could’ve fed three times the amount of people present. And we smiled to ourselves and each other and filled our mouths with the smorgasbord of edibles and thought, “…damn, it’s hot out here! But soon, so soon, it will cool down.”
As the night progressed, the cool air swept in and we swayed to the tunes on the outdoor speaker, threw beanbags, and sipped our drinks. Aside from the entire Iowa population of mosquitos inhabiting the yard and biting our bodies, it was a perfect night.
There were children shrieking, pumping their small legs on the swings, yelling, “Mom, mommy, look at how high I can go!” and adults shouting back, “Yes, I see! You’re doing great!” There were sightings of Big Foot by the boys (“and we caught him and tied him up with Big Foot String!”) and ghost stories later by the fire with a blue-hazed flashlight that made all of the white clothes shine like neon lights. There were babies both born and almost-ready-to-make-an-appearance. There were sippy cups, binkies, dolls strewn on the brick, face-planted like they must’ve taken quite a tumble, and two-front-teeth.
As the sun quickly set, the fire pit spit bristles of light out of it’s confines with a pop. The marshmellows, graham crackers, and Hershey’s chocolate made an appearance, but I was too busy holding little Lincoln, bouncing him on my hip and cooing to him.
Eventually, after people faded away into the night, heading home, and the brush of cool night air across my skin gave me goosebumps, I headed inside to give my fire-pit-smoked eyes some much-needed rest. I closed my eyes, smiled for the end of Summer, and gave in to the sleep that had been knocking on my door for over an hour.
Au revoir, Summer days. Bienvenue, Fall. Treat us well and please make yourself at home. Stay as long as you can because we love your company.
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