Thoughts in Late Summer


Thoughts and memories change with seasons, at least mine do.  I do not think of the same things nor dream the same way through out the year.    This is especially true for those country dwellers who tend gardens and burn wood.  People like me that live in old houses with massive yards full of old trees watch the seasons change with a keen awareness of the slightest changes- told to us by nature.

In late summer, I take stock of the woodpile.  We hardly ever build a fire til the latter part of October, at the earliest,- still, it is good to know where you stand on the matter, in late summer.   I look at the “burnpile” at the back of the rabbit patch.  A burnpile is a collection of debris collected in summer storms, to be burned on an early autumn evening when rabbits aren’t  raising bunnies.  For some reason rabbits love to set up housekeeping in a burnpile.  Usually, I invite company when we burn as extra hands help tend the fire-and we all enjoy it.

Barns get cleaned out in late summer.  I helped Jo Dee clean out one yesterday.  Jo Dee is a “barn-keeper” of this shed.  She uses the little barn, but does not own it.  We cleaned it out yesterday-for almost twelve hours .  The heat was about unbearable.  I reckon it is safe to say that our friendship is solid as we survived the weary work without a cross word spoken.  It was a testament of authentic friendship and   I cooked Sunday dinner in bedroom shoes today, because of it. Believe me when I say that Jo Dee  is as deserving as anybody I know, and has carried me when “I had barns that needed cleaning”.

It is hard to think of sweaters and gloves in the August heat.  I always go through the closet and make sure that things are in order.  There is nothing trendy hanging on racks to improve my image, so style is not the determining factor in the contents of my discard pile.  I remember my parents taking us to buy “school” clothes, when I was little.  These clothes were for school only and we changed quickly when we got home from school, into “play” clothes.  I never liked the shopping day.  Daddy went and picked out the sturdiest pair of shoes in the store for me.  They were always brown and looked like boys’ shoes to me.  I couldn’t wear those shoes out .  They lasted through all sorts of inclement weather.  My feet were warm and dry in those ugly shoes, without fail.  When I grew up, my mom told me a story that changed my heart towards those little brown shoes that I got every year.  Daddy grew up poor.  He was raised nobly, but without money.  He had to walk several miles to and from school on dirt roads.  He had one pair of shoes.  To make them last, he carried those shoes on the walks back and forth.  He put them on  just before he got to school.  Daddy cared about my feet and wanted me to have the best shoes sold-and it wasn’t his fault that they were always brown.  I remember this story in late summer with a sense gratitude for having a father that showed his love in buying  little brown shoes in late summers, long ago.

Today, at Sunday Dinner, I realised who I was dining with all over again. My car is twenty years old and my winter coat is second hand- and it is not going in the discard pile-but, I was born from nobility.  My mom told me this, when I could understand it, in her wisdom , that my daddy loved even the feet of his child.  

When the first of the dry leaves begin to fall and tiny pumpkins grow on vines,- it is the time to clean barns and watch sunflowers bloom . . . and it is also a time  I  am glad to remember those little brown shoes. 


16 thoughts on “Thoughts in Late Summer

  1. The magic of the changing seasons is a wonder to behold. At each change I think ‘this is my favourite season’ but lo and behold the next one is just as lovely. My son is looking forward to autumn and collecting conkers, he’s already got his eye on them growing in the trees!

    Liked by 1 person

  2. The brown shoes spoke volumes, such an odd concept in this day, many youngsters don’t understand how hard their parents have to work to give them what they demand. Being brought up to appreciate our parents struggles is so important I think.

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  3. Not worried about your happiness just curious as he is never mentioned. You have wonderful friends and family. I just retired from a busy job and it is so peaceful to read
    your thoughts and memories it makes me appreciate what I do have even more.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. thank you Peggy-A lot of people have been concerned that I am alone-the kids growing up has been a huge adjustment. I do have a lot of love in my life and this blog has been very helpful. People like you are a real joy for me. Thank you so much!!


  4. I love this post. I can relate to the shoes. I was born with club feet and wore corrective shoes my entire grade school years. I was so envious of all the girls with their black patent shoes while I wore what I thought were ugly black and white saddle shoes that were “sturdy and had support” Ironically those same saddle shoes came in style by the time I was in high school. I should have known I could not escape them. I soon realized how much my sturdy shoes cost and what a sacrifice it was for my folks to buy them so my feet would grow straight. Sometime shoes speak love.

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