Farmland and French Fries

Today was the last day of summer even though it's only August 14th and some idiot thinks that's now the beginning of fall.

I took Bess and Becky to the beach, the only willing volunteers.  Bess is a beginner surfing maniac, and it turns out when you take Becky the dog and both get in the water, she is a surfing maniac too. Not to be left on the beach, she charged right in with us and swam and attempted to surf. Which meant I had to stay in the pretty shallow water until she got tired out so she didn't drown in her enthusiasm to not be left behind.

Seeing the dog tossed about, and leaping over waves, and seeing the 10 year old almost fifth grader managing the surfboard that is feet longer than she is, in her mini wetsuit, with her long California blonde hair and summer tan - and the ocean herself, washing machine tumultuous, full of sand and freezing and churning us up - this was our last grasp of summer. We played knowing there was frozen yogurt directly afterward, our tradition. French fries and farmland waiting as we drove home, our tradition. Swimming and hair washing and the long night before school ahead.

I'm not sorry I spent the summer with my babies, the tall and the short, the four leggeds and the furry. I got to see them sprout surfer's legs, I got to wrestle through the heat and the boredom of long days. The real reason for summer is to give your mind that long stretch off, to think nothing, to find other things to do, books to read, skies to watch, cousins to sift through, water to float on and contemplate your life.

This is as important as AP classes. It may in fact be the Real World. The fertile soil and the tan skin and the French fries on the way home.