We have just one more full week before the school term begins. Summer is not over, but our summer freedom is coming to a close. Everything did not go according to plan, but we have, on reflection, made the best of these months that we could. We gave it our best shot.
We read—a lot. We spent time at the Central Library downtown every week while my daughter volunteered there. We left with more than we could carry each time. I met my goal of reading 52 books this year back in July.
We ate well most of the time, and sometimes we just ate toast. We walked and biked to our neighborhood shops and markets. We tried new things. We picked 18 pounds of berries to freeze, but as of this week, they are already gone—into smoothies and slushies and crisps, but mostly just popped straight from the freezer. We ate out in our neighborhood and in other people’s neighborhoods and at the homes of friends and family.
We were bored. We bickered. We wished for independence.
We made things. I worked with yarn. My son made countless Lego contraptions. My daughter worked on her novel and doodled and crafted. We made sun prints. We knotted friendship bracelets. We built couch forts. We brought home feathers, sticks and pebbles to pile around the house.
We explored. We were stung by stinging nettle and bitten by mosquitoes. Someone got poison oak on their bum. We foraged for salmon berries. We got wet in indoor and outdoor pools, in creeks and rivers, in lakes, in the sound and in the ocean proper. We camped out with old friends and made some new ones. We built roaring fires. We discovered the joys of the campsite hammock.
It was a very good summer, and it’s not over yet.