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This is the view from my front porch in late summer.
Soon, this view will change.
I waited, so eagerly, so impatiently, this spring for the leaves to come on the trees. I could hardly remember what green was like. I think I will never get used to the fact that the leaves just aren’t on the trees here until May.
I took this picture in April.
It’s hard to remember that we can see the river from our house when the leaves are off the trees.
I live with this present green every day, taking it for granted most of the time, as if it will last forever. But it won’t. West Virginia has a true four-season climate. I’ve lived here in our new farmhouse for two of them so far. I look forward to each one as if it’s a gift I get to unwrap. And as if it’s just for me.
I want to know my farm in all its different outfits. I want to see the woods on fire with the turning leaves, and I want to see snow fall over the distant hills.
Yet as soon as each season comes, I know that I will be itching for the next.
And so for these last days of summer, I want to see summer, in all its hot, lush glory. I want to enjoy too much zucchini, hot car seats that stick to my legs, the near-dry river ford that laughs at me as I cross it, chickens that don’t want to lay yet, a goat that doesn’t want to be milked, football practices that never end, evenings on the porch, and the word August at the top of my calendar.
Because soon….. Soon…..
It will all be gone.
