summer ennui

It's brilliant that the childs are old enough to be fairly independent with their projects.  They just do stuff now, all on their own.  Sometimes they even work together without anyone crying.

The cross dressing is entirely theirs also, although I'm doubtful they are aware of it.

There is something about summer that always brings about a relentless sense of ennui in me.  While the childs are all busy making and doing stuff I'm all thinking, 'why bother?'  And 'what the point of it all, really, when you get right down to it?'

Don't Panic.

Maybe it's the heat or the destruction of my usual routine once all the neighborhood kids are out of school and in our yard all day long?  The high and low pressure changes that come with the evening storms?  My internal sense of irony needs to counter balance all the sunshiny happy people?

Maybe it's hearing the sirens of emergency vehicles nearly constantly.  None of us have lives untouched by car accidents, either our own or involving someone we love.  Sirens always make my heart skip a beat.  Given the increase in sirens and how often we're outside or, even, inside with the windows open, my heart doesn't beat normally from June through to September.

I'm not the only one who notes the seemingly increase in frequency of sirens in the summer.  Here is boy child's scene today:

That would be an accident in the intersection, with one vehicle flipped over.  One emergency vehicle responder on the scene, another on the way.

The paper house, by the way, is my contribution the child's paper road mat.  I suppose it tells you all you need to know about where I'm at lately.

While I feel like my doing-stuff-ness crashes out during the summer months, like always, I do enjoy a good read.  'Why bother?'  turns into 'Why not?' when there is a good book or four to be had.  It's not so hard to be listless and vaguely depressed laid out in a hammock with a stack of books beside you.

Which is where I'll probably be for the next few months, in the hammock, while the childs buzz about with all their energy and excitement.  

Good book recommendations are never more so welcome.

it's the end of the world

The childs and I dropped by my grandparents' place last night and stayed over.  I was hoping that today the kids would get a chance to work on the dead wood fort they started building last summer.  Instead, it was rainy as hell.

Some of the creatures that inhabit the farm didn't seem to mind the rain.

And others were as put out by it as I was.

I stayed dry on the porch and looked about.  Compared to the city, the farm is so very quiet and peaceful.  I feel completely privileged to have spent good portions of my life, particularly my childhood, feeling contented to be among the mostly dormant, gently rusting, detritus of farm life.  

Rain, on the farm, is good.

Outside my grandmother's window is her extensive bird feeding systems.  There is dozens of species that visit.

Not all of them feathered.

Be very, very quiet, we're hunting ground squirrel.

I seem to be taking more and more pictures of the farm, as of late.  I think I am documenting. The rumblings about having to sell up and move into town are getting louder and more frequent. 

The thought of no longer having this home feels catastrophic. 

So I visit, and take pictures, as often as I can.  I try to freeze time and make stay what will, inevitably, go away.

Perhaps the rain, so good for the flowers, wasn't so great for my psyche.  While I was being melancholy out in the damp, the childs were hanging out with their great grandma, developing an appreciation for the finer points of The Price is Right, snacking on forbidden sweet cereal and laughing their heads off at the antics of the birds outside at the feeders.  For them, living in the moment, they feel fine.

Couch, cat, girl, rain, radio

It is raining.  We are hiding in the gloomy house.  Listening to Welcome to Night Vale community radio broadcasts.  If it is raining where you are, you can listen to Night Vale broadcasts here. 

This is the look of someone listening:

Hey, look, it's our new couch.  The Man and I found it at the dump last weekend.  It's in amazing condition, even if it's a bit ugly.  The blankets over the back were made years ago by The Man's aunt Carol.  

Both the couch and the blankets are popular with the smaller-than-I creatures about the place. 

I'm not entirely sure what we'll listen to when we make our way through all the Night Vale broadcasts. Any suggestions for my gloomy girl?