From June till October I am a homemaker on overdrive.

I warn everyone before I head out to the farm stores; don’t, just don’t when I get home, there will be too much to do.  Flats of strawberries are edged out by raspberries by peas and beans till tomatoes. Don’t even get me started on tomato season. I am a mad woman with delirious expectations. The body sized freezer must be fit to burst before we start with the chickens then a call about the side of beef and right, I wanted pork this year too. Our garden goods to be picked, sorted, fermented, frozen, traded, eaten, dried…..

There are all the blankets heady with the aroma of wood stove to be unpacked from the chest, aired and to be packed right back again, pillows to be dealt with (are we the only family that loses track of pillows, ending the winter arguing over a scant few for our heads?) sheets to be mended, duvet covers to be made. Our walls suddenly need a lick of paint, I simply must sew new curtains and go through cavernous closets crammed with odds, ends and various art materials.

Books are found, others donated, books lists made and purchased for upcoming lesson cycles. Someone has no underwear that fit, holes in every sock and no shoes, absolutely none. How does that happen?

Right when there are summer camps and I consider taking a rest, the emails for events and activities that start up in September begin. Directions chosen, discarded or set to the side for later years.

Out of town visitors, days at the beach followed by hours of de-sanding. Visits with friends that last well past sundown and warm evenings spent chatting with Husband about everything. Writing in the morning, knitting in the afternoon with a splash of sewing at dinnertime.

Summer, it’s just the best.



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