Last hurrah, take two

On the way to the airport yesterday, I heard the weather forecast over the radio. It was something to the effect of: ‘and today will be the last day of decent weather ever, with rain and possible snow tomorrow.’

And thus summer ended. Even though I thought it ended a week ago.

So in an effort to maximize the last day of seventy-degree-weather, we lingered outside. First, at the school playground. And then at the playground a block from our house. And then we drove to the reservoir for one last walk in short-sleeved shirts.

Apparently a bear has been sighted in the area, so there’s a bright yellow sign posted along the trail (again, still) warning oblivious exercisers that a hungry beast lurks within. The sign was up the last time the professor and I brought our collection of boys to the reservoir. (I hadn’t seen it.) And, after an hour of walking, a biker sped past us: ‘just so you know, we saw a bear, about ten minutes back.’

‘A bear?’ I exclaimed. Craziness. ‘Didn’t you see the sign,’ the professor asked. ‘No’. And I was intrigued, of course. Who wouldn’t be intrigued by a possible encounter with a bear? At the reservoir. But the professor finally dissuaded me with ‘ten minutes on a bike is a long way to walk.’ Especially with three tired children.

True that.

But this time, on account of flying solo with my cubs, I wasn’t really in the mood to get up close and personal with a bear. But my very minor paranoia was tempered by the fact there were lots of people around (other people listen to the radio too, it seems). And hopefully the bear would think they were tastier.

After spending about an hour walking the equivalent of a third of a mile, we headed back to the car. The sun had begun its descent and the sky was a rosy color. And the boys were incredibly loud. An older couple passed us from behind, ‘you don’t need any bear whistles with those guys around, do you’ the guy laughed. ‘

Which may or may not have coincided with the Hen’s decision to say poop as often as possible and laugh as loudly as possible (a slightly more exuberant version of the Beavis & Butthead laugh). Particularly when used in conjunction with the word face. ‘There’s poop on your face’ hehehehehehehehehehehe. It’s charming, really.

As we walked up the final hill towards the parking lot, the moon was white and the sky was pink. The sort of scene that begs for a photograph, really. ‘I’ll buy you hot chocolate if you hold hands and walk towards the moon,’ I told my oldest two.

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