Gathering clouds made the late summer afternoon feel cooler, so I decided to take a walk. Glancing into the dining room where my eight-year-old and twelve-year-old daughters were sitting at the table, I invited, “Would you girls like to go for a walk with me?” Obviously bored, they eagerly jumped to their feet, but obediently turned back to pick up their drink glasses when I suggested, “Why don’t you put your glasses next to the sink?”

In the driveway Tammie, my younger daughter asked, “How far are we going to walk? Is it going to rain before we get back home?”

“No.” I assured her. “It won’t rain while we’re walking. I only plan to walk one mile. That’s to the top of the hill and just a short distance beyond the oak tree that stands there.

The air was still and felt slightly muggy. Thinking of the dry soil in the garden, I reflected on how we needed rain. Unseen late summer insects hiding in the tall grass along the road and tree tops buzzed. I commented, “The sound that late summer bugs make always reminds me of the sizzling of bacon when it fries.”

Niki, my older daughter chuckled when I added, “The fat of the summer is melting away whenever you hear those bugs.” Both girls groaned when I cheerfully pointed out, “Your school year starts in three weeks.”

All family walks taken along our road must include a stop on the bridge, found one tenth of a mile from our house. We look down into the water and count minnows and crayfish. Pebbles from the road get tossed into the water to see them splash. Leaves are dropped to watch how fast or slow the current of the Little Eau Pleine River takes them away. Without the sun that day, the water looked dark. Tammie complained, “I can’t see fish today.”

Continue reading →