It's September. A fact that has weighed on my mind a lot over the last few weeks. September is Fall...or Autumn...or whatever it is you want to call it. It seems final. Like Summer is gone before it was even here.
I know, stereotypical Scotland-blogger. Complaining about the weather. The wet, endless rain, grey, swamp I have been living in for weeks upon end. Sure, there have been breaks in the grey, but not many and not often enough to be called Summer. I even had the heating on for 20 minutes on Saturday night ... in August.
But I miss Summer. Iowan Summer. Sweet corn bought at the farm gate and cooked and eaten with the juice running down your arms (I like mine grilled with salt and lime). Swimming in ponds and rivers and lakes...sometimes naked and often at night. Lightening bugs. Deep fat fried pickles and green tomoatoes and cauliflower and cheese. Sunburn. Iced Tea. Tomatoes that just grow. Rain that makes a thunderous enterance and you don't have to even look out the window to know when its stopped. The smell after that rain. Bullfrogs the size of cats and their crazy sexed-up music all night long. Heat that makes you grateful for Autumn to come.
Oh, well. Not this year. Some other (life)time, then.
This post was written by Kat, a 30-year-old mama to one spirited small boy, named Ellis. She lives in Scotland with two cats, one goldfish, a couple of slugs and a dada named Kevin. When she is not blogging at Slugs on the Refrigerator she can be found crafting away.
Photo credit: jfravel