Summer, with all its promise of great and wonderful things, is over.
And it certainly didn’t come through with all its promises.
There were no long, uninterrupted days of sunshine. There were, in fact, very few days when summer seemed like more than a fleeting visitor.
There was, of course, the eye candy, the endless greens, lush greens of every shade and hue imaginable. I, personally, loved the way the shades of green just melded and blended together until they crashed into the blue horizon.
Often, I would comment about this phenomonen to my husband, who just didn’t seem to get it.
“Yes, it’s green,” he would mutter in the most unappreciative way.
I would simply shake my head and chastise him for his lack of appreciation of nature and he, in turn, would ignore me and tell me his hearing aids weren’t working and he couldn’t hear me.
But I knew he could.
But, anyway, I digress.
The greens have been replaced by gold, and the trees, overnight, have changed their summer dress in favour of the brilliant colours of fall.
I was pondering this change in seasons the other day. I noted the way my brilliant marigolds had drooped their little heads, almost as if they were grieving. I noticed that my hanging plants had sort of sprawled out of their pots in the most unbecoming way, almost like they, too, were feeling morose.
Perhaps, they simply needed a drink to perk up, I think, but, alas, that didn’t seem to do the trick either.
Anyway, as I stood in my sun dappled kitchen and pondered these things, I decided the time had come for me to have an ‘end of the summer’ deck party.
Luckily my friends are quite used to me and my spontaneous, if misguided, ways.
I knew it was already mid morning. I knew that people probably had plans already. I knew I certainly wasn’t prepared for such a party.
I did it anyway.
I did it because I felt like we needed a party and we needed a reason to get together. I did it not because things had been going super wonderfully for all of us, but because they hadn’t.
I did it because the rain had fallen on more than one day for many of us this summer. And not just on our lawns and our gardens, but on our souls as well. And I did it because I felt like we needed to laugh and we needed to feel the sun warm on our faces for at least one more time.
And I did it because I love them.
Anyway, they all came even the guy who lives far across the border in the province of Saskatchewan.
“Deck party, my house, 5:30,” I texted.
“I’ll bring wine,” was all he said as he set out for the seven-hour drive.
It was a glorious evening and the sun shone mellow and soft on all of us as we sat around the deck and chatted and laughed and, even shared a few tears like friends do who have known each other for a very long time.
And then because it seemed like the stars were all aligned for me on that particular day, my granddaughter, who brought with her a lovely smile, her 17-year-old vivaciousness and her trusty violin joined our party. I tried very hard to be quietly proud and not get all goofy and silly when she arrived.
Of course, I failed miserably.
And as she stood and played for us I couldn’t help but think how confident she was to play not only in front of her grandparents, but in front of all her grandparents’ friends as well. I play the piano, albeit badly, but when I force myself to play in front of others my fingers tremble and I get so nervous I am pathetic.
Oh to be 17 and confident!
And so my evening ended with the echos of Sonatina in G floating through the open
window as our violin player joined one of the piano players in our group to give us a wonderful concert.
It was a moment in time when I was reminded once again of unexpected joys and unexpected blessings.
I was also reminded I need to learn to not be such a chicken when it comes to playing in front of others.
I’m not sure how, though!
I wish I was 17 again, but on second thought that wouldn’t work either. I was a chicken then, too.
I guess you just do it!