End of June Update

Cotton is a summer precipitate in Colorado, catching sunlight as it lazes through our shade awnings, glowing like super-sized fireflies. The offspring of the cottonwood trees catches in low-slung, grassy cobwebs and forms a soft white trampoline for unlucky insects.  The drift of the seeds, the heat of the afternoons, inform us of summer's arrival.

With the demise of baseball our schedules have opened enough to allow for deep breaths, lazy afternoons of reading, lego-building and planning. We watch through streaked windows as the sun bleaches our back patio, droops the red geraniums in their pots, chases the cats from their favorite indoor hiding places to new, cooler locales in front of the AC vents.

Despite the languor of late June, summer's appearance has an edge. A house full of dirty socks and slightly bored offspring signals a lightning storm of flared tempers. In addition, the rapid pace of our first four weeks means that camps and other travel adventures sit like obstacles in front of me, and I have to maneuver quickly to scramble for babysitters, car rentals, and extra house keys. July 4th hovers, only a week out, like a faintly menacing UFO.

But swim team prelims are here, in conjunction with the swimming Olympic Trials - mercifully televised - and my stack of magazines and library books lies in wait for hours at the pool. Strong and tan, the kids quiver to chase down PR's and carbo-load with friends, and I write to preserve these moments, the best part of the summer.