There are things in this life that are just simply good, and a rain in August in Western North Dakota is one of them.
The other is a ride through the pastures with Pops under overcast skies, checking the cows, the grass and the chokecherry crop.
There are a million chokecherries.
And you should see the raspberry bushes.
Aww, I miss summer, even when I’m in the middle of it.
I wonder how that can be? How can I be lonesome for these long days when I’m out in them, doing the things I wish to be doing when the winter drapes it’s cold arms around us and holds on for dear life.
I have done this my entire life, not just with summer, but other things as well. Like I remember distinctly laying on the floor of my grandma’s little house at the ranch, in a sunny spot after an afternoon of playing outside in the barnyard with my cousins, and feeling so content, so where I wanted to be, that I squeezed my eyes tight together and wished to never grow up…wished for time to stop…
How could I know at a such a young age that the way things were in that moment would inevitably change? How could I know enough to be sad about the fact that as it was happening it was also, slowly ending…slipping away from me into another uncertain day?
Yesterday, after my ride with Pops I came home to my Husband sitting in the Bobcat moving dirt around our house, creating a nice slope in the yard where we can plant some grass, build a fence and continue with the whole making our lives out here project.
I took a drive to the gas station and got him some fuel. I came home and helped him move boards out of the way, hauling and stacking and making plans for the next project.
It was Sunday and it was just us out there getting things done and I have always liked it that way, I’ve always liked Sundays, always wished them to be a little longer…
We’ve spent so much of our life here in the last few years planning for the future, the next project, that I am much more in love with the moments after they’ve passed than when I am in them.
And some days I just miss when it was a little simpler…when we lived in my grandmother’s house over the hill and everything was broken and tumbling down, we didn’t have enough space for our things, we had wide eyes and a few less gray hairs and the rest of our lives to look forward to, so let’s just go down to the river and go fishing…
But anyway, our lives stretch out before us every day, staring at us with ideas and procrastination and all of the things we should be doing.
Some days it’s nice to just believe that what we’re doing is what we’re supposed to be doing. And I knew it. I knew that when Pops came over on his 4-wheeler to get his dog (she decided to spend the night with us) that I should follow him down to the corrals and saddle up.
I knew that I should taste the chokecherries, even though I knew they were going to be bitter, not quite ripe for the eating.
I knew that I should get Husband a treat at the gas station, something sugary and cold to drink.
I knew that I should be standing out there in the yard with him taking directions and lifting things I am too wussy to lift.
I knew I probably shouldn’t have pointed out that my belly button was filled with dirt from all the manual labor…and then showed him…
Except I only knew after he told me I should keep that stuff to myself…but who else am I supposed to tell…that shit is funny…
And I knew that days like these, days where we get to choose what we should be doing, days where we get to make progress at building our lives, days where we get to sit on the back of a horse and ride a little further just because there’s time, are things that I’ll miss when the snow falls, my hair turns gray and they are gone from me.
Like rain in August…
I don’t want summer to end.
I don’t want to grow up.
I don’t think Husband will ever admit that he also had dirt in his belly button…