Summer is like an endangered species around these parts. I anxiously scan the crops planted in the fields as we travel from here to the lake. The height of the plants in the field indicates the number of weeks of summer still left. When the corn tassels out, the countdown till school starts will begin. I'm relieved to see the plants are just inches tall; I breathe easier.
We crunch our way over the gravel roads and through the woods, to Grandmother's house we go. I begin to relax with each passing mile. I'm finding my mind to be quieter in the summer, although my days are boisterous and noisy. As we drive under the balcony of overhanging branches, the boys prepare to race for the lake and the boat, longing for the pull of a big fish on their line.
I go for a walk with my camera, capturing nature in all her green and fleeting glory. Heading back to the cabin we are treated to an oh-so-satisfying 4th of July dinner of roasted hot dogs, grilled hamburgers, and toasted marshmallows. I'm drawn to the swing on the porch and the stillness of the glass-like surface of the water on the lake, disturbed every now and then by a passing loon.
While we take turns trying to break the spell and diminish the allure cast by the roaring fire on our boys, the sun starts to slide down the horizon. Its a now herculean effort to break the g-force pull of the porch swing on my fully relaxed body. With a promise of a return sometime soon we head off back to Detroit Lakes to catch their fireworks show. We're dazzled momentarily with a brief show. I realize its the perfect metaphor for my thoughts about all things summer. I'm living in technicolor right now, as fleeting as it may be.