• Best Summer Ever!

    Dead RV battery. Ticks on the dogs. Ticks on us. Toothache. Dead car battery. Awning broke. Our 10×10 pop-up gone in the wind.

    “Best summer ever!” I told Jody.

    Lake George, New York, our seventh campground, was the first time Jody and I felt like we were really on vacation—living in our RV, traveling the Eastern Seaboard.

    Maybe it was the unfamiliar Adirondack landscape. The steep hiking. Scrambling over roots and granite, climbing through the forest and then suddenly coming out to a view of Lake George, a ribbon of blue tucked between mountains.

    Our travels continued with bike rides through the countryside, up and down valleys. I was a kid again, sailing over the pavement. Nature and being outside filled me. Farmers in the fields. The smell of hay being cut. Leaves beginning to fall.

    There were more challenging hikes in the Appalachian Mountains. Swimming beneath waterfalls. Days turned into weeks, weeks into months. I stopped noticing—or caring—what day it was.

    Time was marked by moving day and arrival at the next site.

    The other stuff—the broken stuff—Jody and I figured out.

    New RV battery. Ticks dropped into a jar of alcohol. Tooth pulled. Car battery replaced. Awning added to the RV repair-and-maintenance list. The 10×10 pop-up was simply gone.

    115 days.
    16 weeks and 3 days.
    Almost four months.

    I watch seven merganser ducks diving underwater, chasing small fish. They play tag, frolicking, seeming to dance across the water.

    “Best summer ever.”

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    One response to “Best Summer Ever!”

    1. SeashoreKaren Avatar
      SeashoreKaren

      love this–what a gift

    Comments?

  • Fall Morning

    Earlier this week I ate breakfast, sitting in a chair on the deck, wrapped in a fleece blanket. With a morning temp in the lower fifties, the conditions were not exactly perfect and I did not care. These beautiful days of early fall are too precious to waste. Three weeks ago, our temps still tried to top ninety and in three weeks from now the mornings may well have forties at seven. Maybe we’ll flirt with hot temps before the big dive.

    The birds are becoming scarce. The wild turkeys are an exception. They peck our windows and doors to protect themselves from themselves. Yesterday they jumped to peck at the car’s sideview mirrors. Out in the water ducks are gathering in large numbers. In Minnesota the geese migrate honking good-bye. The tourists are here for fall festivals with freedom to drink alcohol and dance in the streets. Summer residents have started their migration to permanent addresses or warmer places. 

    Peacefully alive is what I call being wrapped in that old blanket, eyes closed, listening to breezes in trees still covered by leaves. A neighbor’s dogs are making noise. A deer cautions people and dogs to back off. Her six-month-old fawns independently forage and explore but will stay near her through the winter. They have already eaten our Hosta and hydrangea and other flowering plants. Food will become more difficult to find.

    Summer’s bookmarks will not all be featured in this year’s photo calendar. Kids, grandkids, families and friends get all the smiling pictures. My husband had a one-month bout with kidney stones including two surgeries in June/July and now is in week three of a back injury.   Our dog passed in August. We had weeks of forest fire smoke topping off the hottest summer in meteorological measures. Except for bugs and heat, summer mornings eating breakfast outside were pretty fine as well.

    Enjoying a cool drink or the comforts of a cozy blanket and something to read are treasured simple activities. Don’t forget everything that can be seen was covered by 33 inches of snow just six months ago.  

    A serene forest scene with trees displaying vibrant green and yellow leaves, creating a rich autumnal atmosphere.

    One response to “Fall Morning”

    1. Ellen Shriner Avatar
      Ellen Shriner

      Lovely meditation on autumn!

    Comments?

  • My Summer in Bugs

    Cicada, in case you’re wondering

    June’s magical fireflies blink “love me, love me.” Disappearing sparks.

    Late July’s crickets’ chorus a shimmery soundtrack for evenings on the porch. 

    By the time I hear mosquitoes’ whining buzz, I’m in trouble and smack my neck. My hand comes back with blotched with blood. Maybe mine. 

    Cicadas drone in August, their whining dirge signals summer will end soon.

    Late summer’s bees and wasps circle and sortie – dive bombing my plate, glass, head. Pulleeze, there’s nothing to pollinate here.

    Overnight September’s spiders spin outrageous webs from patio chair to table, geometry personified, ambitious beyond all reason.

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    6 responses to “My Summer in Bugs”

    1. Karen Seashore Avatar

      I love a short post line this—it is poetry: evocative and sensual.

    2. Karen Seashore Avatar
      Karen Seashore

      I love a short post line this—it is poetry: evocative and sensual.

    3. Eliza Waters Avatar

      How I miss those summer sounds when they are gone!

      1. Ellen Shriner Avatar

        Yes, that and birdsong

    Comments?


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