As of today (yesterday? the day before? tomorrow? whenever.) summer is officially over – and I couldn’t be more thrilled.
I’ve recently decided I’m not a horrible person to admit wanting summer to end. I mean, people all the time state that they’re glad when winter is over – so why is it so sacrilegious to admits to being glad to see summer come to a sweaty close?
I say there needs to be more equal opportunity when it comes to season affection. Maybe it should be my new mission or something. I better go buy some new tall boots to prepare for the campaign trail. See how that works? Yeah winter!
This past weekend, we celebrated the start to the new season by doing a few of our favorite fall activities.
We picked raspberries and apples. We watched college football on TV, and rented a movie to watch in the basement instead of running through the sprinkler. I dug out the waterbath canner that’s been collecting dust in my basement since last fall and made jam with it.
You guys, I made jam. And then some apple crisp. And then dilly beans. Maybe some hot mozzarella too.
Basically, I had to resist my primal urge to put on a sweater and cook up a batch of chili. And if it hadn’t been 93 degrees outside, I totally would have.
We harvested, we processed, we watched a sport (not baseball!) on TV and said goodbye to summer by napping on box fans.
In a few years, when our lives no longer are dictated by naps, early bedtimes, late afternoon meltdowns and diaper changes – maybe then I’ll mourn the loss of those blissful lazy summer days I hear everybody talking about.
Yes, I’m sure of it.
But I’ll always be glad to see September 1st come around. And that doesn’t mean I suck, and my kids don’t call me Mommie Dearest either.