Yesterday we had the end of summer family party. The weather has been remarkably nice with temperatures in the eighties, beautiful blue skies and kids, grandkids, nieces and nephews filling the swimming pool and old folks smiling at memories of summers long past.
There was some politics thrown in here and there. After all, it’s in our blood. I joked about my impending campaign and how I’ll need at least ten million dollars to assure my victory. But no checks were forthcoming. But most of the day and evening was taken up with grilling meat, containing grease fires, eating fattening foods and sitting around talking about the best parts of the recent vacations, kids going off to college and whose arthritic joints hurt worse.
One of my sisters-in-law was marveling at all the various butterflies that were flitting around the aptly named butterfly bush that Camera Girl employs me to keep well-watered. And it was interesting that they had selected the party day to come out in full force to get the last nectar from this plant resource. It was one last reminder that nature rejoices in the summer almost as much as I do.
By the time the last guest had left and I had assisted Camera Girl in wrapping up the leftovers it was 11pm and it was time to walk the dogs and lock the doors.
Today we had the kids and grandkids back over to finish up the food and go swimming again in the pool. I grilled up the last of the burgers and we stuffed the kids with pie, lemonade, ice cream and cake. Remarkably, they never seem to get too full or groggy from all that sugar. They just head back to the pool or play some badminton or soccer.
I was talking to their parents about school. They start school a week from tomorrow and the grandkids were not happy at all by this talk about it. I could see their faces fall at the mention. So, I quickly added that the pool won’t be closing up until the day after they go back to school and they could come over every day they were allowed to if they liked.
But it struck me that I remember feeling exactly the same way when school was looming over us like that. It was an awful feeling and at that moment I remembered what nine-year-old me felt like. Ah, the persistence of memory.
We haven’t had any real rain in over a month and the state is declaring a drought. My water comes from a well and since I live next to a swamp, I figure there’s probably a trillion gallons of water still in there. Maybe a trillion and a half. That’s what we call an engineering estimate.
But the fields are as dry as a bone. I’ve been watering the vegetable garden and the flower gardens pretty religiously but a lot of the flowers have given up the ghost. But that’s what late August is; the beginning of the dying time. I guess I should be unhappy about the drought and the straw-like grass. But I’m not. I always hope that summer will stretch into September. Sure, an inch or two of rain would be fine. But eighty-degree days and blue skies are as close to heaven as I can imagine. And soon enough the days will shorten and cool. It’s inevitable. So, another week or two of summer looks good to me.
I notice the Democrats are laying it on pretty thick about how the arc of history is bending toward their mid-term success. Blah, blah, blah. And the predictable Republicans are panicking about all this. “Oh no! The Trump selected candidates will go down in flames. Quick, make friends with the progressives!” Feckless losers. People are telling me we must move to the middle. And I tell them there is no middle. There’s getting what you want and there’s folding like a cheap suit. Pick one.
But the result will be upon us soon and I can deal with either eventuality. A true binary is upon us. We either win or lose. And I can deal with either result. But no more uncertainty. Either the American people throw off the Democrats or they don’t.
What a beautiful sunset tonight. It’s a joy to see a day this beautiful.