Summer, that is.
And this was my first clue...
And this...
And this...
My yard. Three days ago.
Summer.
Gone. Finished. Kaput.
Terminated and executed by the cruel, cold snow.
For some reason, right now, I feel like writing an "Ode to Summer" (kind of like that John W. Schaum piano piece Sister Maggie Gammel made me play in Sacrament Meeting when I was twelve, "Ode to Joy." And even though playing that piece in Sacrament Meeting didn't bring me much joy, this particular past summer season did, so therefore I think an ode is perfectly fitting).
Oh, Summer 2010,
You were so good to us.
You gave a serious helping of joy to a child obsessed with Thomas the Tank Engine,
And you let John soar in a little (and nautiously bumpy) airplane high above our home.
(And for once, he found joy in the provided air-sickness bags.)
You let it pour rain on us during our one day at Lagoon, knowing that a day for us at Lagoon (or Disneyland, or Legoland) just would not be complete without us getting completely drenched.
But, as kind as you were, you gave us 3 hours of dryness before the heavens let loose.
For this, we thank you.
And speaking of wet, thanks to you, we stood under the falls at Niagara. UNDER the falls. What a thrill!
And this time we were more than happy to be drenched.
Wet with Niagara Falls water?
Yes, we were more than okay with that.
You let us pretend we were Nephites (and Almas and Harvest Dancers and Harlots) on a stage on the side of the beautiful Hill Cumorah.
And while there, we got to hang out with our adorable niece (while she continues to serve her mission).
That was truly the bomb.
Palmyra.
The highlight of our summer.
Joy, for sure.
Of course, the highlight for Raegan was a little different.
Working as a Medical Coordinator in the Leprosy colonies in India, I think, would be her top choice.
Yes. Definitely.
Then there was the annual 24th of July celebration at the cabin in the glorious mountains of Utah.
Complete with our yearly hike.
Gorgeous.
Wouldn't be summer without that.
Oh, and Oma's potato salad.
You brought us the birthday swim party where 7 children just had So. Much. Fun. finding out who could scream the loudest (all at once) inside our echo-y pool room.
While mom sat and listened.
Which, you would think, would make her so happy to see the joy that brought those little ones.
Just really, really happy.
But it really didn't bring her as much joy as you would think.
Thank you for the sound of the ice cream truck music that sends the kids scrambling for mom's wallet. ("You paid HOW much for that .10¢ popcicle?!")
Then there was Matthew and cousin Thomas deciding that baseball was their "new thing."
Thank you, Summer 2010, for allowing Matthew to actually hit the ball.
Once.
It made him feel like he was King of the World.
(I borrowed that line from my all-time favorite movie, btw.)
Oh, summer!
Joy at its finest!
The fishing trip to Alaska which rewarded us with 200 pounds (and a 6-year-supply) of King Salmon.
(And of course the new freezer we had to buy in which to keep the 200 pounds/6-year-supply of salmon.)
Then there were our visits to Opa (John's dad) at the care center while realizing that life is too short.
Too fragile.
Too unpredictable.
But then you gave us rainbows which remind us of a Power much higher than us. One who is in charge, Who has a plan.
One who loves us.
The true definition of pure joy.
And finally, stunning summer sunsets; the ones you can only find in Utah.
(And maybe India).
(*No photoshop here! This is exactly how the sky looked. Srsly.)
Thank you, joyous summer of 2010, for three memorable months.
And welcome winter. I'll try to love you, too.
But no promises.
And this was my first clue...
And this...
And this...
My yard. Three days ago.
Summer.
Gone. Finished. Kaput.
Terminated and executed by the cruel, cold snow.
For some reason, right now, I feel like writing an "Ode to Summer" (kind of like that John W. Schaum piano piece Sister Maggie Gammel made me play in Sacrament Meeting when I was twelve, "Ode to Joy." And even though playing that piece in Sacrament Meeting didn't bring me much joy, this particular past summer season did, so therefore I think an ode is perfectly fitting).
Oh, Summer 2010,
You were so good to us.
You gave a serious helping of joy to a child obsessed with Thomas the Tank Engine,
And you let John soar in a little (and nautiously bumpy) airplane high above our home.
(And for once, he found joy in the provided air-sickness bags.)
You let it pour rain on us during our one day at Lagoon, knowing that a day for us at Lagoon (or Disneyland, or Legoland) just would not be complete without us getting completely drenched.
But, as kind as you were, you gave us 3 hours of dryness before the heavens let loose.
For this, we thank you.
And speaking of wet, thanks to you, we stood under the falls at Niagara. UNDER the falls. What a thrill!
And this time we were more than happy to be drenched.
Wet with Niagara Falls water?
Yes, we were more than okay with that.
You let us pretend we were Nephites (and Almas and Harvest Dancers and Harlots) on a stage on the side of the beautiful Hill Cumorah.
And while there, we got to hang out with our adorable niece (while she continues to serve her mission).
That was truly the bomb.
Palmyra.
The highlight of our summer.
Joy, for sure.
Of course, the highlight for Raegan was a little different.
Working as a Medical Coordinator in the Leprosy colonies in India, I think, would be her top choice.
Yes. Definitely.
Then there was the annual 24th of July celebration at the cabin in the glorious mountains of Utah.
Complete with our yearly hike.
Gorgeous.
Wouldn't be summer without that.
Oh, and Oma's potato salad.
You brought us the birthday swim party where 7 children just had So. Much. Fun. finding out who could scream the loudest (all at once) inside our echo-y pool room.
While mom sat and listened.
Which, you would think, would make her so happy to see the joy that brought those little ones.
Just really, really happy.
But it really didn't bring her as much joy as you would think.
Thank you for the sound of the ice cream truck music that sends the kids scrambling for mom's wallet. ("You paid HOW much for that .10¢ popcicle?!")
Then there was Matthew and cousin Thomas deciding that baseball was their "new thing."
Thank you, Summer 2010, for allowing Matthew to actually hit the ball.
Once.
It made him feel like he was King of the World.
(I borrowed that line from my all-time favorite movie, btw.)
Oh, summer!
Joy at its finest!
The fishing trip to Alaska which rewarded us with 200 pounds (and a 6-year-supply) of King Salmon.
(And of course the new freezer we had to buy in which to keep the 200 pounds/6-year-supply of salmon.)
Then there were our visits to Opa (John's dad) at the care center while realizing that life is too short.
Too fragile.
Too unpredictable.
But then you gave us rainbows which remind us of a Power much higher than us. One who is in charge, Who has a plan.
One who loves us.
The true definition of pure joy.
And finally, stunning summer sunsets; the ones you can only find in Utah.
(And maybe India).
*Under Niagara Falls
(*No photoshop here! This is exactly how the sky looked. Srsly.)
Thank you, joyous summer of 2010, for three memorable months.
And welcome winter. I'll try to love you, too.
But no promises.
5 comments:
Oh so lovely! Funny, I was thinking about blogging about the end of summer and posting pictures...I think I still might. But I can't write such a fine ode as yours!
What a lovely way to sum up a summer holiday. Your ode is heartfelt! The pictures capture every moment perfectly. Great work;) I see what you mean about the weather, the rainbow pic is stunning. Actually I like the snow too...because we long for pure white, crunchy and crisp snow;)
Waaaaahh!!!! I'll miss you summer! Beautiful post, beautiful pictures. It really was a JOY to read.
I love what you wrote, and I might even steal your idea about cramming it all into one post. But I probably won't. Not enough time. And yet, here I sit at the computer. (Love that movie and movie line, btw) Your pictures are incredible!!
I love the way you see things. What a treat to view the world through your eyes. And your words.
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