I’m not sure exactly what triggered it, but I’m completely, utterly and most certainly finished with summer. The sweet boy and I went to Kansas City earlier this week to ride some roller coasters and eat some BBQ and just to get away for a bit. Perhaps it wrapped up summer for me and I’m ready to move on. Perhaps losing my mom last week has helped to have me ready to close off summer. Perhaps I’m just sick and tired of the heat.

Whichever it is, I do know that every time I start to go outside, I am almost certain that it’s going to be a bit crisp in the air. I’m almost certain that I’ll see an orange leaf drift slowly to the ground. I’m almost certain that I need to go back in and get some long sleeves unpacked for the season. However, after stepping foot into the mid-August mugginess, I’m almost certain that my earlier certainties are those of a mad woman (or at least someone who is longing for shorter, cooler days).

I think the beginning of fall will allow me to reset. I’ll be able to clean out the garden, sweep off the back porch (something I should have done before summer actually got here), clean out my summer clothes and pull out my fall wares. Soups will once again make up most of my weekly menu and the late night sounds of crickets will fade away only to become a distant memory until sometime next year when they start back up again.

The craft shows will start up again allowing me to regroup and figure out which direction Idyllhands is going in next (something I’ve been struggling with for a couple of months). This is something I’ll welcome with open arms. Idyllhands has sat a bit idle (no pun intended), patiently waiting for me to return to my beading table with new ideas. I had plans to retire some designs and overhaul others. All of those plans were well and good until I received two requests this past week for the same bracelet that has not been in my shop for months. Hmmm… a sign that my regrouping is as simple as restocking? Perhaps. All are things I need to figure out… all are things that will happen this fall.

But for now, it’s still August. The days are still long, crickets still loud, mosquitoes still biting, and grills still grilling. For now I still have time to be lazy out on the front porch, to eat fresh tomatoes from the vine and to wear sandals without abandon. For now, I still have time to put off the resetting that fall will bring until, well, fall.

However, I still long for and very impatiently await autumn.

6 thoughts on “Longing

  1. I am also hoping for fall. It is time for the seasons to change. Hope you can figure out what you want to do next.

  2. Hey sweetie. Good to see you up and about. And I'm glad you and the boy took a mini vacation, you so deserve it.I wouldn't stress about an overhaul of your shop… I've done the same stressing for quite some time now, and I've found that it's like a cycle that keeps repeating itself. Things that were once old, become new again, and things that are recent, become a part of the bigger blend.Just do whatever you feel like doing, and don't force yourself upon anything more than that.If I've learned anything this year, as I've had plenty of time for soul searching… it's that we can't try and predict what will work for tomorrow, only to do what makes us happy today.I think as an artist, we are ever evolving and re-visiting past ideas, and coming up with new ones. There is no right answer, because just as you think you're ready for a change… another something new or another something old may visit you again.Just live simply, and do whatever makes you happy… Today. ♥;)

  3. These comments brought a smile to my face! I just have such a hard time letting things evolve! I have to have control :)Type A much?

  4. Me too! Every time I get a bit of a cool breeze this intense longing for fall springs up inside me. It's just been too dang hot.

  5. it's so understandable that you want to leave behind what has been such a sad season. fall will bring fresh air. fresh ideas. all you need to do now is quietly wait.

  6. I just visited your blog after loving your comments on our site. I never knew what you were going through, and never knew you very recently lost your mom. I'm so sorry to hear that she's not with you as you knew her during your life. As a mom, I often think of what my children will go through when I'm no longer here; and my hopes are that they grow stronger knowing that I've loved them before they were ever born, that I'm still with them, loving them and the lives they live, with me always in their heart. I'd want them to know I loved them before I knew them, and loved them more every day they were in the world, and that I am proud of them, their choices, and that I was fortunate to have them in my life, as they made it magical for me. I'd hope they'd take me with them in their heart on all their adventures in life. I don't know you well at all, but from what we've exchanged, I'm pretty certain that your mom would feel as I do. I'm going to share a poem that since now, has only been shared as "ours" with my daughter and son. It's called "i carry your heart with me by eecummings. i carry your heart with me (i carry it inmy heart) i am never without it (anywherei go you go, my dear; and whatever is done by only me is your doing, my darling)i fearno fate (for you are my fate, my sweet) i wantno world (for beautiful you are my world, my true)and it's you are whatever a moon has always meantand whatever a sun will always sing is youhere is the deepest secret nobody knows(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which growshigher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars aparti carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)

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