Listen to the Locusts - Summer is winding down. Make it count!

“Rest is not idleness, and to lie sometimes on the grass on a summer day listening to the murmur of water, or watching the clouds float across the sky, is hardly a waste of time.” --John Lubbock

To normal people, a locust’s cry probably goes unnoticed. It doesn’t consistently chat like the cricket does – a regular rhythm of chirp…chirp…chirp. It doesn’t entertain with a sporadic song like a bird does. To a normal person, a locust is that big bug that sheds its skin and freaks you out if you cross its abandoned path.

I tend to freak out too, at the locust, but for an entirely different reason. In fact, this time of year, it seems that the random, lingering wail of the locust is all I can hear. It sounds like “Hurry! Summer’s almost over and you haven’t taken the kids to an amusement park yet.” Or, “How is it possible that you’ve pondered white, fluffy clouds and counted the seconds between lightening bolts and claps of thunder, but haven’t noticed one single shooting star?”

The locust is my version of an alarm clock. The sound of one somewhere in the distance jolts me out of a trance and reminds me that if I want to take in all that summer has to offer, I’d better get to it. So, like any red-blooded woman, I decide that a good place to begin is my closet. I look past the tank tops and capris that seem to have been my uniform so far this summer and reach for the black & white polka dot sundress that taunts me all winter long. So what if I’m only going to the grocery store today? The locusts remind me that it’s high time that I wear it.

Waaauh….waaauh…waaaauh…waaauh….23 more evenings that my kids don’t have homework, how shall we spend them? Waaauh…waaauh…waaauh….waaauh…23 more days that we don’t have to be anywhere in particular.

Waaauh…waaauh…waaauh….waaauh…have I ridden my bike yet? Waaauh…waaauh…waaauh….waaauh…there’s still time to read a (whole!) book by the pool. And so on – the locust reminds me that our family’s freedom is fleeting with every humid minute that ticks by. I want to exhaust my lofty options so that I am totally ready to surrender to the coziness of autumn by Labor Day.

There are still more s’mores to be toasted, more fireflies that need to do time in a Prego jar. So, in the interest of living in the moment, I’m outta here. This month’s column may be short, but the carefree days (and nights) of summer suddenly feel shorter.

Action Exercise:
Don’t panic. Just put your calendar in front of you so you can see what you’re dealing with. Then, make a list of the things you’ll regret not doing if you don’t make time for them. Allocate time for these things on the calendar and pick them off, one by one.