It has not rained here for days on end. The grass is dry and brittle and basically straw, the lawn a literal storm of dust. Leaves are falling already, waving goodbye to one season, but the sun is not finished with summer and neither are we.
We spent one day basking in the opportunity to live off the land (meaning barely half an acre in a very land-locked city suburb). We had paw paws plucked from the side yard in greek yogurt for breakfast, the tropical scent enveloping the entire main floor. The boys discovered chicken of the woods at the base of one tree and wound up breading and frying the giant mushroom for dinner, dipping it in Cane's sauce and going on and on about how good it tasted. Right before bedtime, possibly as a sleep stall tactic, Tolliver determined to make a cucumber salad recipe that had been calling his name, with straight from the garden cucumbers and chili oil and rice vinegar, packing some for his lunch box for school the next day.
We made it to the pool one last time and spent another day at the lake. Perched on lawn chairs and quilts in the driveway, we watched Harry and the Hendersons projected on the neighbor's garage door. The kids turned on the trampoline sprinklers and filled the net with water balloons. There are vases of zinnias and dahlias on every flat surface inside. Even the cat is enjoying cold summer treats, all of us hanging on tightly to the best parts.
