It hardly seems possible that although we are sharing the same season in the Western hemisphere our temperatures are vastly different. Hubsie and I were out walking this evening and the leaves were lovely and green, the earth was damp and the bushes had lilac and white flowers emitting soft summer fragrances, I could see blackberries, still green, looking forward to ripening in the hot summer sun, it was cloudy and it was cold. There wasn’t even a nip in the air smacking of a crisp autumnal evening, it was just plain old damp and cold. Was this really July? Why after a child’s lifetime away, did I not recall such abominable summers? Why was I not thinking,
“Oh, I remember now, English weather leaves a lot to the imagination.”?
I had been raised in the temperate climes of Beirut, Lebanon so knew how to take sunny days for granted and make plans in advance for garden parties without fear of a downpour. I knew all about English weather but it must not have ever fazed me.
Malia and I wear shorts every day,
“Won’t we be cold?” I ask.
“Maybe,” she says, “but it’s July! ”
We trudge down the road to the bus stop in our Uggs and shorts, a light jumper and the ever present umbrella and shop ’til we drop, which isn’t hard when shanksie’s pony is our only mode of transportation!
My friend from Liverpool challenges me to enjoy, “living the English life!”
And despite the inclement weather I am not homesick for the sweltering heat of Texas. I look out at the lovely English garden which is mine to enjoy without any of the work, I appreciate the willow tree and the flower beds and Mary Poppins springs to mind as I find myself humming to the tap, tap, tap of a summer rain,
“Raindrops on roses!”
Well hello there! My name is Vivienne McNeny.
I am an empty nester exploring life as a Boomer…you could say I'm happily Boomering along!
As a homeschooling Mum I have finally quit the job of role model and mentor to my four children. I do what I want to do, eat when I feel like it, enjoy life with my blue eyed cowboy and clean my house once a month or so whether it needs it or not!
In true English form I write about the emergence of my true identity now that I can no longer hide behind my children as their Mum.
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