Summer Time

I've noticed we tell time differently in the summer. We go by our experiences rather than the clock. It's not 11:30. It's How many minutes until the popsicles are ready? And 10 minutes to bedtime becomes When the peepers stop singing, it's off to bed. I like it. A lot.

How long can we stay at the lake?

When will the grill be hot?

It’s time for more sunscreen.

Can we make it to the end of the pier before the sun sets?

How long can we keep it?

Which is faster – urgent care or the emergency room?

It’s time for the cottonwood to fly.

How many more days until it comes out of the cocoon?

How long can I hold my breath under water? Time me!

When will the fireworks start?

Do we have time to look for rocks?

It takes longer to hike the blue trail than the red one.

Is it time to make s’mores yet?

How many more days until the blackberries are ripe?

Do we have time for one more ride?

And my favorite. When can we do this again?

I hope you enjoy your time this summer!


Sally Bacchetta - Freelance Writer

This Time of Year

This time of year it's impossible to find clothes for a tween girl. Shorts, tops, bathing suits... the styles jump from Sparkle Unicorn to Call Girl with nothing in between.

This time of year I encourage my kids to lose jackets and sandwich containers at school so I don't have to wash them. The grass looks good enough to eat. Even 3rd grade math can make a person cry.

I'm teaching my kids to forge my signature. Permission slips, practice charts, lunch money accounts, bus passes, fund raisers, camp registrations, team snack schedules, volunteer applications, teacher appreciation sign ups... they can handle it all.

This time of year good parents are as attentive to sleep and nutrition as they were in September. I'm not one of them. If you can walk and talk, you're plenty rested and fed.

It's puddles, polliwogs, peepers, pansies, parks, picnics, paddling, and pedaling.

This time of year I stab safety pins into everything. Ragged backpacks, ripped gym shorts, frayed flashcards, split lunchboxes, torn orchestra music, whatever. I just need them to hold together for a few more weeks.

This time of year I get drunk on the night air. I'd donate an entire playground in exchange for Not.One.More. piece of paper coming home from school. I'd rather spend half a day in the garden than half an hour at my desk.

This time of year is enchanting beyond expectation. And it is worth the wait.

[I came upon this little fawn placidly enjoying the beautiful day.]

Sally Bacchetta - Freelance Writer