1 September and, though the sun has shone and it’s been unusually hot today, I can feel the summer slipping away. The way the light moves around the house has noticeably changed in the last few days, the evenings come to a close quicker and the heat of the day slopes off with surprising abruptness. The glut of early summer veg is long gone, leaving a bounty of tomatoes ripening faster than we can eat them, a couple of sugar sweet melons, some stubbornly unripe peppers and chillis and a pumpkin patch which is threatening to take over the garden. We’ve just harvested the last of our main crop potatoes, and planted our seed spuds ready for Christmas Day. Last week’s holiday to Cornwall seems like a month ago, and the deliciously pure ‘fresh’ light in my photos seems like something from a lifestyle magazine rather than how it really was. Whichever way you measure it, summer is slipping away.
I’m fending off the back-to-school glums. It’s been a glorious summer holiday, gone all too soon…how I will miss my little chums. Only 5 more sleeps until my baby starts school and my big boy goes in to Year 1. Hardly seems like a minute since Bertie started school and, yet, here we are and Digby is about to join him. Having resigned, I have no job and no plans at this point. I’ve been waiting for inspiration to strike but nothing beyond a vague desire to feel ‘successful’ has presented itself. My measure of ‘success’ is also rather ill defined at the moment. I’m sure it will all muddle itself out for the best.
For now I’m clinging on to the last few days of the holiday, trying to erase the mental image of Diggy in his school uniform and wondering where the time has gone. Let me get through next week, Bertie’s 6th birthday and the eight (yes, eight) birthday parties in the calendar and then I’ll re-group and Make A Plan.
Really? My baby is going to school? Not right, not right at all…potters off quietly, shaking head.