I find that most years when summer begins to wind down and the days are growing noticeably shorter, that I tend to cling tighter. There are a few years where I’m ready to embrace fall in August, but most of the time it’s the actual first day of fall in late September when I grudgingly let go.
I do love fall, but I adore summer.
I’ve always had that feeling of “but I meant to do…” in late summer. The advent of the “bucket list” both helped me get some of these things squeezed in by the very virtue of thinking about it ahead of time and writing it down. It is true that the act of writing helps get things accomplished.
Still, there are always those things that I never get around to. The past few summers that has been camping. I really, really like camping. I like the fire, the tent (and I even like the sound of rain on the tent, although a soggy campsite has zero appeal), the camaraderie of other campers, the hazy smokiness, trying to get enough light to read in the darkness next to the embers, the quietness of the woods. I just like it. I do NOT love digging through a cooler, though.
This year, my younger son wanted to go camping for his 16th birthday and invited several friends to come along. My husband was going to take them on his own, but wanted a second car along. I wasn’t sure I wanted to go, but came along and I’m so glad I did.
We camped at Natural Bridge state park in Kentucky. We didn’t know that there was a pool available to us, so I didn’t bring my suit, but it had such a lovely atmosphere tucked as it was into the side of a mountain.
It was only a weekend, though. Our previous camping trips as a family have always been from five to ten days, so it felt a little abrupt.
Now that I’m home, however, I’m just trying to enjoy each lovely day, most of which have been warm to downright hot with a rainy one mixed in here and there.