There is a day, every summer, when you know the warm days are coming to an end. There is a subtle shift in the air, the light is different, the mornings a bit colder and one day, you catch a whiff of smoke from someone's fireplace and you know it's time to say goodbye for another year. We're almost at that point, but I cling to the myth that summer ain't over until the last kayak is put away, the bird feeder is packed up, and the garden is put to bed. My nephew agrees.
I'm still at the cottage, which is why my posts are few and far between. Forgive me if I haven't responded to your emails or comments. Dial-up is so long and frustrating I want to pitch my laptop in the lake, so every so often (when I can't stand it anymore) I wander down the dirt road to my friend Anna's cottage and steal a bit of her high speed time while we share a cup of Chai tea. So forgive me. I will be back. Just not yet.
I've still got a few more days here in paradise before I pack up and fly my Youngest to university. It's bittersweet saying goodbye to one's children - you know they're going to be having one of the greatest adventures of their lives, where they will make life-long friends, perhaps meet the love of their lives, choose a career path, discover books and philosophy and aspects of themselves they never knew existed. But it's wrenching for a mother to watch yet another child leave home. And it's just as hard the third time around as it was the first.
Every little birdie has to leave the nest someday, or so they say. I say fight dirty and stock the nest with homemade brownies, lots of cold cuts and a flat-screen TV.