Whoever said talking about the weather was a copout has never met me. Caleb and I discuss the temperature, the sun, the rain and the direction of cloud movement all the time. Not because we don’t have anything else to talk about, but because the weather never seems usual around here. What started as a very rainy July has turned into a mild August and guess what… Fall is already poking her head around the corner. Soon the water in our beloved Chattahoochee will be a little more of a sting and less like a blessed relief. But for now we’re still drawn to the edge with the prospect of dipping a foot, or just a toe, and climbing a rock mountain or two. The wind whipping across the rapids is welcomed with upturned faces and curls blown askew.
Jonathan managed to pull off an epic wipeout on the concrete sidewalk outside the movie theater two weeks ago. Culprit? Those awful orange flip flops that I’ve regretted all summer. I thought wiping the skin off half his knee would dissuade him from wearing them again, but it wasn’t to be.
He came very close to sending them off into the river on Saturday and I got ready to practice my happy dance. Also didn’t happen.
Some other sights that begged my attention:
May your week be filled with conquered rock mountains.