We've been back in Blacksburg about a week and I've been surprised at some of what I forgot.
I had forgotten the love of plastic bags we have. Every item in it's own simultaneously forever and ephemeral casing.
I had forgotten what proper attire was for Target and Walmart when you are picking up a few odds and ends before you headed out to the lake or fishing or the family barbeque for the long 4th of July weekend.
Noah had no memory of riding in a shopping cart and had to be coaxed to sit up so high. He eventually declared it even better than riding on a swing.
I had forgotten the fireflies blinking out the morse code of the summer, their message instantly discernible to all who have ever been a child. They call for you to enjoy that delicious moment when the air turns and the breeze picks up. It's that very last moment of the day; that moment of indulgence when bedtime is pushed just a bit further back so children can spin and catch and giggle before the night turns over to the raucous fun of the slightly older crowd.
I have developed a fixation with being warm which translates to a firm determination to not use the air conditioner. This is actually a fairly achievable goal in the mountains of western Virginia. The altitude gifts us with the sort of nights I will forever associate with summer college visits to Boston. The day is almost unmanageably warm but with a liberal application of iced tea, popsicles and ceiling fans, it can be done. By about an hour past sunset, the night floods in with an understated sort of interest. It's a slow seduction compared to the exuberant invitation of the summer day. You can usually count on it to get down to 70 at the very least and, often, if you decide to stay out past curfew, you will find yourself wanting a sweater to slip on over your party dress.
There is a part of me that is already longing for October. I will look out my window and see a mist every morning. The deer will be crossing to the woods, shadows, just visible. The air will be tinged with the bite of woodsmoke and the breeze will nip rather than caress. But, for now, I will soak in the wonder that is summer in the mountains.
And, yes, there are still a couple of posts about Ireland waiting in the wings. I have been asked if I will continue to write. I am inclined to. After all, isn't life always an adventure? But, the posts will be about America, mostly my tiny corner of it.