The slamming of the door echos as the kids head off to the bus stop at the end of the street. The rooms of the house are dark, quiet and still. I sit at the counter thinking of all that needs to be accomplished during the day. The appointments made, groceries bought, laundry folded and ironed, toilets cleaned. There are photos to process, posts for work, meals planned. I start in on the day and by 10 am most of it is done.  The photos are an ongoing process, each one looked at, decided upon, imported and processed so that it matches my idea in my mind. It's quiet and still.  I get up from the computer and walk around, refilling a cup of coffee or walking outside. I waited for this moment, when I could have a day of quiet, when I could contain the chaos of the house. I sit at the counter for breakfast and lunch alone now. I plan out dinner when we can be all together. I hope the oldest might Facetime and join us for dinner. I am still getting used to him being gone and the other two at school. They were at school last year but I had 2 maybe 2 1/2 hours to myself.  The oldest had classes at running start and so was home most of the day.  I think of my grandparents that have breakfast together every morning.  Right now, we all get up at the same time, but we don't eat together.  My husband stands in the kitchen and basically has a snack, some ham, a piece of fruit and half my coffee. I'm packing lunches and calling to the kids to come downstairs. They arrive at different times only to pull out cereal and milk or toast and juice, then off they go to finish getting ready. Finally the morning chaos is over and I am alone.  I shower, make the bed and finally sit down for breakfast myself only to find the rest of my coffee has grown cold. I had a sip of it. Is there a better way?

There is a time of year that bridges the season of summer and autumn. It's not quite one and not quite the other. The earth starts to crack from the heat and leaves and grass grow brittle, turning to gold. Then comes a respite from the heat and the nights cool more rapidly. The moisture again wells up from the ground, streams, and rivers to coat the green and yellow with tiny beads of water. The spider webs glow in the morning light. The wild berries ripen, mold and fall to the ground spreading more seeds. The flowers wither into something almost alien before shedding their brown brittle petals.  The morning sky is introspective, cloudy, grey with it's thoughts and then in the middle of the day it brightens, like it's remembering to smile. Sometimes the brouillard (fog) rises up and blankets the country in it's mystery only to reveal the hidden by the mid day sun.  The smells of the earth are of dust and heat one day then suddenly wet and earthy the next day only to repeat again. This bridge of seasons, collides, smacking together the carefree days of the kids to the heavy schedules of school, twining around each other until you can't tell one strand from another. It's chaos and a dance. It is eager anticipation for the schedules and the structure to return yet still longing for that carefree day day of running through water at the edge of the ocean in bare feet. It is the need for comfort food such as soups, stews and pies but firing up the barbeque because grilled chicken in a white wine marinade, a salad and fresh bread still feels like a light enough meal.  One day the heat will be gone, and only the thick stews, hectic schedules, and earthy smells will remain. This bridge only lasts a week, maybe two at the very longest and then it's gone.