Hurry, this day, hurry up and pass. I-24 begs us and bids us come on down (direction) and up (elevation). I never like to wish time away; it is God's good gift to his children. But today I'm jonesing to get on the road in the general direction of the Happy Castle, that purple house in the holler in sweet, sleepy little Monteagle, Tennessee. I remember, as a girl, being giddy for a getaway for weeks, months in advance. Now as a girl just slightly older, it takes me a little more time to get giddy. But this morning the bubbles and butterflies in my belly arrived and it's time to commence the silliness. Anticipation is everything. Everything. No one knows or lives this fact better than I.
Fall is falling (not nearly soon enough for my tastes). Temperatures and leaves will follow suit, down to the ground, soon enough. We ache with readiness for it, am I right? Swelter will turn to swoon, heat will give way to heaven's fresh breezes. The brash Summer can try to put up his dukes and bully her around, but fair Autumn will best his steel. She will cool him with her nimble hands, she'll hypnotize him with her wild color. He'll not stand a chance.
Meals have been split up and planned. Sarah June and I will handle tomorrow's supper quite adeptly, with cuddle sessions between chopping, I'm sure. Wines and spirits have been packed as have books, nail polishes, pretty magazines, candies and conversation topics. Walks, lengthy coffee talks, football games, naps, board games, porch dwelling, ease. No wonder they call it the Happy Castle.