First Day of School

Well, it feels like it.

The Child started back over a week ago and already there was the snap in the air that makes you reach for a sweater and think that a nice beef daube would make an excellent dinner. But this morning I woke up to misty fog-like swirls in the air and no matter how many warm days we have left before the official start of autumn, it appears she is here.

I just read the President's back-to-school speech. I couldn't help thinking that someday, down the road, we're going to hear stories about successful people who mark that speech as they point when they got their academic crap together. I wish I'd heard a speech like that when I was in school.

The Labor Day weekend was composed of equal parts accomplishment and laziness. Now that it's over, I'm wishing I'd gotten just a wee bit more done. But that's what early risings are for, right? So I'm going to go pungle some bills before I have to wake up The Child. That way I can justify playing Sims2 when I get home from work. Because I'm back on the Sims kick. It's a good thing.

Well, That's Just Crazy

Saturday evening it started to rain. I wasn't aware of this, ensconced as I was with The Child and a second viewing of HSMII (I missed some stuff during the live blog). I went outside to retrieve something from the garage and was gob-smacked by a perfect summer rain. I just stood on the front steps for a bit and took it in.

The rain was falling very gently, settling the August dust. The scent was wet earth with top notes of lavender, rose and mint with just a hint of damp cement.

On Sunday morning it was still raining, harder now. There was no wind so the rain was falling straight down, something we don't often see. It was a good, loud, grape-plumping, puddle-making summer rain. It had cleared by the afternoon, when we walked to a housewarming party, and was still clear when I went downtown to fetch The Neighbor from the ferry.

Now it's raining again. As a native Northwesterner, I love me some rain. Between the months of October and June it can rain as much as it likes. But there is something about rain in August that makes me feel like summer is ending and I don't like that. I'm not ready. There are still things to grill, fruit tarts to make and a handful of tomatoes on the (disappointingly unproductive vines) that need to ripen. No, sir, I don't like it. Even though I know September will likely be a spectacular month (because it usually is the most beautiful of the summer here), I'm not feeling this rain just now. Although I suppose it will make it easier for The Child to curl up with her last book report book. But still.

Stupid global warming.

March Comes In

To the north and south there is lots of snow and ice. Right here, in the little pocket of urban bliss that is Seattle, there is bright spring-like sun, fluffy white clouds in the brilliant blue sky and the sound of crocuses popping from the ground. Decidedly lamb-like for my neck of the woods but far more liony for the rest of the region. Should make the 31st very interesting.

While dusting some very grimy books this morning I had a revelation-that's-not-so-much-a-revelation-as-a-reminder: I am good at many things. Waiting is not one of them.

This has been a very productive week and that just thrills me to no end because so often I'm much better at laying plans than actually executing.

We finally got around to watching "Brokeback Mountain" last night. Meh. Meh to the 10th power. The Spouse liked it. But then, as I'm wont to say, he likes everything. Never met a movie he didn't like. He will even find the one thing that works in a movie that is universally held to be horrible. I like that about him. Although if he says a film is "great" you should get a second opinion.

Did I mention that The Child's class is reading Romeo and Juliet? They have all signed up for different parts and scenes...she's going to be the Nurse, in Act II, Scene iv. The parts have to be memorized and performed near the end of this month. We started running lines this week, one 15 minute session a day. Oh. My. Gosh. She already has all the little lines memorized and she's working her best British accent. She's also rolling well through the various modes of expression required in this particular scene...indignation at saucy Mercutio, feigned hurt at Peter standing by while Mercutio is saucy, not to mention warning, conspiring and encouraging Romeo...all in the same speech. She really is going to be amazing. And you just haven't lived until you hear her said "Scurvy knave! I am none of his flirt-gills; I am none of his skainsmates!"

I think she's going to be a method actress because after we practised she changed into an old Halloween costume that has a renaissance thing happening and asked, while she was making splendid BBQ chicken sammies for dinner, if we could please try to talk like the Nurse and Juliet.

In other news, my car has decided to make some sort of horrible grinding noise that sounds like I'm dragging a piece of fuselage. This is perfect timing because the extended warranty I bought on the thing 2 years ago is no longer in effect. The good news is that there are really good mechanics just down the street. The bad news is there will be a car repair bill. That is never a good thing.

And now I must away. Fair jocund day salutes my eye and...and...that Elizabethan crap is hard.

Bring it On

There is no denying it. Nature, being a lass who cares very little for human trifles like clocks and calendars, has decided that autumn will come to the Northwest sooner rather than later.

It is a clear, lovely morning. The warm sun is winking at me just over the roofline of The Neighbor's house, coyly peeking through the massive cherry tree. But a cool breeze is blowing and for the first time all summer, I have to wear a sweater while I sit out here with my coffee. It's not a cooling breeze, like the sort we prayed for in the dog days. It's the sort that is eager to start pulling leaves to the ground. The apples are beginning to blush, the grapes - well, just look at those grapes. One more warm week and I expect it will be time to make the first batch of jelly.

I wasn't ready a week ago but I am now. Whenever I sit to plan the week's menu I'm drawn to the recipes for chicken & leek pie and burgandy stew. I grow weary of inventing one more twist on grilled chicken salad. Instead of cool fruit tarts I want to make a big, hot plum cobbler. I should send The Child and Best Friend out berrying.

It rained yesterday. Not a lot and it came inbetween a day and early evening of sun but the ground is still wet. The grass, which has been dried into hay, seems relieved. It might well be ready to try turning green again.

It has been a long, lazy summer but I'm ready for a change. I'm ready for regular bedtimes, for sending The Child off to master algebra and read Shakespeare while I keep to my quiet, empty house. I'm looking forward to long blocks of uninterrupted time with books and papers. Autumn is coming and that means baking bread, seeing BBB married off, pulling out sweaters and fresh episodes of "Gilmore girls". I'm ready.

Change is good, especially the rhythmic changes of the year. Autumn is coming and she's welcome.