I didn’t want to look out the window this morning because I knew what I’d find: the end of summer.
Across the street from my front door is the BYU campus. I see students heavy with backpacks and cars trolling for parking spaces, heralding the season of school. In the traditional sense, the spice of summer is no longer. My street, which simmered in silence for the last few months, is back in business.
Was it a short summer, or am I just pregnant? By that I mean, was it just me who was hoping that this summer would stretch and extend to avoid the huge changes fall will usher in (a new baby for us)? Or did the long days and short nights rotate quickly for everyone?
No matter, here we are. School and students, football buzz, earlier sunsets, Halloween in Costco and, for me, echoes of the Cougar Band marching to practice up the road.
Embrace it.
But before I hang up my summer longings for good, I’d like to pay tribute to what this summer was for me. I mean, besides unexpectedly and disappointingly quick.
This summer, my friends and I put on four Rooftop Concerts for downtown Provo. I think we can estimate we served around 8,000 happy customers by putting excellent tunes in their ears the first Friday of every month. With all of our concerts so far we’ve had clear weather and big moons, great turnouts and eclectic atmospheres. Though we still have two more shows left to produce (this Friday’s September concert, and next month’s October concert) we couldn’t have asked summer to do a better job hosting. Thanks for the cooperation, May, June, July and August.
It wasn’t that hot this summer, or did I just stay home a lot? My swamp cooler kept up just fine. We’ve lived in this house three years and every year I threaten to juice up the air conditioner, but this year there wasn’t even a bite for threat. I like to think the swamp cooler is good for my skin, too — it’s like a cooling system and a beauty regime all at once. (What? This shining skin? This isn’t just pregnancy, my friend!)
This was the summer of the thunderstorm. They came almost daily just before the golden hour of sunset. We missed our evening visitor on the days we didn’t see flashes in the sky or feel the thunder shaking the window panes. And we didn’t have to water the lawn as much, so good on the pocketbook.
We took family outings to Idaho, St. George, San Diego and Springville. Though we live in Provo, we really don’t get to Springville that often, so one day we decided to spend the afternoon in the town just south of us. It was ... interesting.
Anyway, this is the summer I learned the difference between a trip and a vacation. Trips are for kids. Vacations are without.
We took a vacation with our friends to San Juan Capistrano beach. I like vacations better than trips, but please don’t tell my kids.
This was the summer my 98-year-old grandfather died. We buried him at Wasatch Lawn Memorial on a sweltering day in July. I’ve got this shot in my head of almost his entire posterity huddled under the shadows of a tent with Mount Olympus watching from the east. If I had a mental photo album for Summer of 2011, this image would be on the cover.
This is the summer my son learned to jump in the pool, my daughter learned to beg for “cheese” every time I opened the fridge and my husband turned 40. It was also the summer I decided to let my hair go frizzy in public with the assumption I’m going for the “beach look.”
And now, on to fall. On to tapered sunshine. Hopes for Halloween and high scoreboards.
And for me, a baby.
C. Jane Kendrick writes for cjanerun.com. She lives in Provo with her husband and two children. You can find her on Twitter at CJaneKendrick, on Facebook as C. Jane Kendrick or email cjanemail@gmail.com.