It is a cool morning on the mountain finally and it looks like we are in for a succession of comfortable days. The weather has been brutally dry and hot for some time. In the gardens, German Striped, Brandywine, Pineapple, Roma and Sweet Cherry tomatoes ripen impossibly fast, as if by the minute. Since the heirlooms aren't bred to be stored, we generally cosume them throughout the day as fast as we can eat them, sometimes just sliced with a swirl of our favorite olive oil, sometimes chopped with fresh cukes in a salad with shredded basil, chilis and lemon juice, sometime just cut in half with a sprinkle of course salt or splash of Balsamic...and sometimes just whole and bite by bite, the way you would chow a ripe plum...they are fruits after all!
This weekend marks the beginning of Labor day and I will be on the big tractor all day and starting to winterize around the house, although the first snows are still a ways off. But this year, our fall is going to be a little more diverse; we are anxiously awaiting the arrival of our first daughter, current expected due date of September 9th. Erin is beyond miserable but "Baby Peach" as we call her is still snuggling contentedly within, wiggling her little rear end against Erin's solar plexus and catching bubbly, amniotic Zzzzzzz's.
Me, I am absolutely terrified.
I adore my son Dylan but he came to me when he was three, already a little boy, the incredible little boy that he is. I have no idea what to expect now. While my wife rests, I often wander to Genevieve's bright and cheery pink room and stand and stare from the doorway. The room does not yet belong to her in a physical sense but I am humbled by it and strangely intimidated. A white stuffed bunny stares down enigmatically at me from the top of a country closet in the far corner as if in on some gentle joke that I am not yet aware of. Stepping in further, I take in the elegant modernistic curves of something called a "diaper Genie" and the assortment of contraptions that will soon wiggle, jiggle, hold, humor and soothe her. I run my hands along the cool ballisters of her walnut crib and then stroke the firm mattress. She will be sleeping here, breathing.
Above that on the wall, Erin has taped a festive garland of small cards that bear messages from our friends to welcome Genevieve into the world. They are scribbled with bright, happy words, filled with love and the import of some great responsibility. I know that every time I walk in here soon, that there will be a little person here. I know that she will look at me and want and deserve something huge and vastly important. And I am so scared that I will not know what to do.
Baby Peach, I can't wait to meet you. I am a little afraid of you now but for good reasons I think.
This morning I am charging a second video camera so I can catch every single second of your life. And I am counting down the second until you come to us.