Though summer is still in full swing here in central Texas, I'm anxiously waiting on September to get here. To me, September is a fresh start. I know technically January means a new year, and while I love a good New Years as much as the next guy, September is a close second. It means pencils and papers on the end caps at the grocery store, it means leaves starting to turn and fall (even if it's only because of the heat here!), and it means fall and winter are almost here. I love when September rolls around.
But in the mean time, we're living in the dog days of summer. The heat hangs in the air and weighs on our shoulders like invisible bricks. Our only relief is a swimming pool or hanging out at the bowling alley. Maybe the occasional warm gust of air that blows through. Heaven forbid we wear our hair down, and even with it up, the little whispies stick to the back of our necks. M and I are living in maxi dresses and skirts, and we seek the safe haven of the air conditioner in the afternoons. We venture outside in the evenings when the temperatures dip down into the 90s. She rocks my sunglasses and we picnic at our favorite places.
Even though I'm longing for autumn, I love seeing my daughter live in summer. Her hair curls in the humidity, and sweat beads collect on her brow. She wipes them away, mumbles something about how "fweaty" she is, and goes back to playing. She climbs into her fort, flies down the slide, and runs over to do flips on the trapeze. She's a summer girl, for sure.
I've got to run, it's been trying to rain for awhile, so we're escaping outside so M can dance to the tune of the thunder. Happy dog days of summer.