The first of August

The day was going to be hot and humid, the first of August.  The first Saturday of the month.  Liam and i woke, had a quick bite of breakfast and kissed daddy goodbye while he slept off last nights work. We scooted out the door to give him a few hours of quiet.  After a stop for coffee and scones, we landed at the farm, our favorite place.  Good mornings exchanged, baby placed on the braided rug at the tables feet.  Tea heated, coffee sipped, scones begin their crumbling escape.  Liam screeches and hollers.  He spy's the kitty, Crystal.  He pulls up on the chair, he tests the kindling bucket for good wood chips.  He greets Eliza's granddaughter with fascination and love.  Stuffed animals are cautiously shared while pieces of scones are scatted about the floor.  When his eyes begin to look heavy, we say our goodbyes and head out the door for a walk around the loop.  

I exhale.

He begins to let his body slump into mine as we walk.

The warmth of our body's tucked closely together, it's sweaty.  It's good.  Not quite asleep yet, he grabs for leaves on the trees we pass.  I pause and let him touch and feel them.

We follow the warn tractor paths.  Paths used for decades and decades to cut the hay, to gather firewood, to reach the woods.

As we enter the woods, the humidity is cut back with the cool forest floor beneath us and tree canopy shading us.

He doesn't fall asleep.  He used to sleep within minutes of being strapped to me.  Now he wants to take in this world, to explore, to feel the earth.  I can't blame him.

As we round back to the house, i feel more grounded and ready to take on this beautiful summer weekend.  After picking some blueberries, we pack up the car and head home to greet daddy.  Liam's asleep before we even pull out of the driveway.  

Welcome, August.