Last week was my first sign that summer is coming to a close: it was the last week of nature camp.

As I said goodbye to my six explorers (7-8 year olds) and fourteen tikes (5-6 year olds) on Friday, I was completely wiped out. I was still damp from our water games, hungry from scarfing down my lunch too quickly, and extremely tired; I was ready to go home. Yet, as I stood there, holding our program snake for them to see, it was still inspiring to see their sense of wonder as I let them get in close to touch her. By taking this extra moment we (my fellow instructor and I) were letting them end on a really good note, even if we didn’t have a whole lot more useable energy. On the whole, the little nuggets were fantastic. My time with them was enjoyable, even if I was exhausted by the end of each week. I enjoyed sparking their curiosity about the world around them, and I had just as much fun doing activities with them as they did.

As I prepared for work this week, I had my second reminder that the fall is approaching: I am spending part of this week at our county fair. When I was younger, I participated in 4-H equine activities. During those years, fair was the last big hurrah before going back to school. While watching the young ones, I can see it in their faces as they mingle in and around the arenas; they are enjoying this week to the fullest, as they should be. I’m not exempt from this enjoyment either. My days with the parks district are winding down, then its off to the insecurity of job searching again. I’m spending extra time in genuine conversations with coworkers that I probably won’t see again. I’m enjoying the time in my office, looking for projects to prepare the classroom for fall. I’m being mindful in all of my activities, making sure that I take the time to savor them while I still can.

Saying that is a time of change for myself and the natural world is cliche. However, as I feel the start of the dramatic shift from summer to fall, I have more awareness of my upcoming changes. Next week, we will be getting on a plane to return to the desert that we will be calling home. Soon, we will be vacating the apartment we have lived in for 3 years and the state we have lived in our entire lives. It’s making me nostalgic in certain ways (like the fair for instance, 4-H was not the best part of my time with horses) and making me realize how drastic this change is going to be. This includes my thoughts about the landscape. When you’re used to an autumn palate arriving each September, the idea of a consistent desert seems pretty weird. Seriously, if someone can enlighten me to what the desert looks like in the fall, that would be great!

Even with my nature questions and the memories that have been coming back to me, the timing of this change feels right. Don and I lamented for years over how it didn’t come, how we felt that it should have been over by now, but we weren’t ready then. We thought we were ready, but we weren’t. This means more than the practical, financial kind of sense. We are more of a team now, ready to embrace whatever will come from here on out. That increased sense of partnership makes this whole ordeal less frightening. We will be leaving our friends and family, but we still have each other. We will be dealing with the insanity together and we will be celebrating the move on our new patio with happiness and a bottle of wine.

As much as I am looking forward to this change, August can take its dear sweet time. There is still time for a few things I haven’t done yet: track down a few friends, have a bonfire, make s’mores, fulfill all of my Midwestern desires to eat fair food, and attend the corn fest. I want to make the best of my remaining time here. Then, I will close this chapter to start a new one filled with adventure and possibility.

Until next time!