Summer 2012 is going by in a hot and humid blur. I can't believe September is almost here.
This week, while browsing through photo albums, I was reminded of summers past, when my parents lived in Mississippi and my daughter and I visited with no real schedule to keep.
Most days found Daddy puttering in the garden, or sprucing up the yard, or tinkering with something under the carport. Mother, of course, kept scrumptuous smells coming from the kitchen—in between playing board games, and sewing, and passing along wisdom as only she can do.
Once the supper dishes were washed and put away, we'd usually retreat to the backyard for a time of talking and laughing and watching the sun set. Without warning, Daddy would burst into an old hymn and the night critters would grow quiet and reverently listen.
As bedtime approached, we gathered in the living room for a family goodnight prayer. Another day was ending, another one about to begin.
I'm grateful I realized how fleeting those summers were, and that I documented them all in some enduring way. Simple times, indeed, but rich and so fulfilling. ♦
Linking to Spiritual Sundays.