How quiet an early service in August is. There is no “hustle and bustle” of wings. There are no squabbles over territory and the frantic searches for food have lulled, amongst the birds. Only the squirrels have any measure of haste, and they ought to, for the dogwood is laden with an abundance of pale green berries, now.
Very rarely, does Lyla miss the early service. Lyla has the uncanny knack of rising within minutes of my waking. It does not matter the day, nor the hour, it is always the same. I hear her light, “kitten- like” steps on the stairs as I am making coffee. She enters the kitchen so quietly.She smiles and says softly, “Good morning Honeybee.” . .and so the days start sweetly.
Jenny and I always tackle housekeeping in the morning time. We have all of the little baby dresses washed and hung. Today we will go to the local fire department, to have the infant car seat installed properly. There are a good many rules and regulations with these contraptions and your baby can not leave the hospital til you get it right!
Some of Jennys’ friends are hosting a brunch for her on Sunday. Today, Jenny went through her closet and began the task of finding the dress she will wear on that occasion. Lyla and I watched her parade about in each one. Motherhood is especially becoming and Jenny is proof of that. My heart welled up like a bubbly fountain just seeing my daughter in such a blessed state. Later, I thought, “why, she was six, just yesterday!” Time is slyer than any fox, I know of.
August is full of zinnias. When other flowers have faded, the stalwart zinnias, are in their glory. If you see a patch of them, it is bound to do you good, for they are as bright and cheerful as any flower I know of. Jennys’ neighbor, has a butterfly bush, a few sunflowers and zinnias in a corner of his yard. I love the color combination of pink, lavender and yellow blossoms and intend to do something like that at the next rabbit patch.
August is full of dragonflies too. They are out in great numbers. In the sunlight, they are blue, yellow, green and lavender (almost). Dragonflies are a busy lot, dashing and darting, hither and yonder. When I was very young, now a long time ago, my “Pop” would tie a long string to an unsuspecting dragonfly, for me to hold, as the adults “housed tobacco”. It was like a live kite and it was quite thrilling for a young child. We were careful to never hurt the dragonfly, though I am sure the experience did not improve his mentality. Now, as I watch the dragonflies, I remember that time, more than a half century ago.
On Wednesday morning, I made pancakes – or “honeycakes”, as Lyla calls them. I made a lot of them, We had them for breakfast, and then I packaged a dozen bags of them, to freeze for Lylas’ breakfasts in September. Of course, these are not ordinary pancakes, for they have a powdered concoction of vegetables and berries in them. It gives them a slight berry flavor which Lyla does not mind – and it is the only way I know of to get carrots and greens in her diet.
Jenny had a doctors’ appointment, on this morning. It was determined all was well, thankfully. Of all the things that I am waiting for, it is the new baby, that “takes front and center”. All else, fades in comparison.
Lyla does not understand this waiting time. She thinks we should just pick up a baby at the grocery store. A few weeks ago, we visited a woman with a young baby. Lyla was very disappointed that we left empty handed as she was sure, we were there to get her little sister. I heard her tell,her stuffed bunny, “well, we didn’t get a baby there.”
Miss Claudia came for supper on Wednesday. Lyla and I made a lemon dump cake as Jenny has really favored anything lemon, lately. I am not a fan of making dump cakes, for as their name implies, it is really just a matter of “dumping” ingredients together and baking it. There is not a bit of mystery to it and the process is mighty quick. It seems very “instant” to me, but Jenny liked the cake (we all did) – and that is what matters. . .besides, Lyla found making a dump cake, to be a delightful affair. . .and that matters, too.
On Thursday, my youngest sister, Connie and niece, Hayley came for a visit. Connie lives between two homes, one is on lake, and the other is on an island. I think it is safe to say, that Connie loves water. I was eleven years old, when Connie was born. She was one of the lovliest children I have ever seen. She had blonde silky hair, with soft curls and crystal blue eyes, which were in sharp contrast to my auburn hair and freckles. Connie was bright then, and remains so, today. Hayley, now twenty, patiently played with Lyla, as if she too were a very young child. It was a nice visit and in some way it seemed liked a part of the grand finale of my summer.
My liberty is waning and I am sorry for it. To console myself, I say “at least, I had some liberty” and I think of all the gifts it afforded. There were books read – and fresh peaches picked, in the mist of a early morning. I did a lot of meandering by familiar places and saw new places. I sat by the sea and on my Mamas’ front porch. I remember the fireflies and the young robin in June. There was a picnic by the lake and a wedding. I saw a falling star, one night and a raccoon came to visit, on a morning in June.
There was a lot of work and a lot of play. The process of selling the rabbit, was at least started and that dreadful ear ache is all but over.
Oh the contents of a summer, can warm you like a bright fire, on a winter night. . . long after the irises have bloomed, . . and the last apple is picked . . . and gardens lie barren . A season never leaves , without imparting gifts and this summer was surely generous. . .and I am better for it.