Outside my window the leafy tree branches dance in a big, wide, slow sway. Back and forth, in time with the tempo the wind sets. Gusts come in, then retreat. Clouds appear where, only a moment ago, there were none. I know this dance, this preparatory performance. A summer storm is coming. It must come. After a week of humid, hot warm days, our atmosphere can only take so much. Pressure builds until the skies erupt in a torrent of big, fat raindrops, powerful winds and then ... the temperature drops. The grasses are cooled. The trees stop swaying, and it passes, making way for another slew of warm days ahead.
Abby finishes school this week and then we hit the ground running into summer vacation: Canada Day, reuniting with our east-coast friends, a baptism, my grama's 90th birthday, visits from our American relatives and promises to go to the secret pond. I know we'll need a respite of lazy pool days and slow mornings after all that, and I look forward to those almost as much as our busy adventures. We have a loose list of summer to-do's: a drive to Nova Scotia, cottage visits, the wildlife preserve, a novel study, the movies, sleepovers and eating ice cream for dinner once or twice. Summertime, and the living is easy.