Labor Day Weekend

When I smell the change in the air on a late August morning, the earthy, robust aroma of leaves and soil and sunshine, I awake.  It's my time.  Summertime, as much as I love it, fades to innocuous, nondescript muzak as autumn pads onto stage like a male lion or a grizzly bear or some huge, warm-blooded, nobel beast stealing the show with it's sheer presence.

Where I'm from September is the time of grape harvest.  Old Man Dale across the canal would harvest his 15 acres of grapes when school started, and the perfume of ripe, purple fruit was intoxicating as we lumbered home on the bus.  Sometimes late at night after the adults fell asleep, we four kids would grab that large Tupperware that Mom used to pick beans in the summer and hold under our mouths when we vomited when we were sick and sneak over to Dale's to Moon Harvest.  Mom didn't need to ask where the bowl of grapes came from the next morning.  She'd scold us and tell us not to do it again.  But every August or September, there would be that juicy aroma coming from Old Man Dale's vineyard, and we would succumb to delirium.  And another bowl of grapes would appear overnight.

And in my heart, Labor Day was the official harbinger of Autumn.

This is the second Labor Day weekeend we've congregated in Tumwater with Aaron's parents and five siblings, their partners and children.  Mario and Jane have an enormous house that manages to fit all 20 of us for three days, some out-of-staters stay a week or longer, and despite the usual and expected dynamics of a massive family gathering, this year was better than last year, and on the cusp of Grandpa Joe's funeral, it was a much-needed time to reminisce and reconnect.

Sweet Melissa and precious little Matthew.

I've been part of the Villanueva clan since 1996, and have watched Aaron's three younger sisters, go from elementary school, middle school and high school girls to married women and moms.  They are fabulous mommies and their children are gorgeous, and they're blessed with partners who complete them perfectly.  And as for Aaron's brother and older sister, I have a special connection with them as well, living closely near them in Seattle for three years.

I know I've mentioned Aaron's family is musical, but it's hard to appreciate unless you've witnessed it first hand.  A gathering usually has an unspoken arrangement to bring your instrument, because spontaneous song is perpetually bound to happen.  These guys were playing real musica here, Aaron and Rita's husband Nic on guitar, and Isaac and Mario on percussions.  It was rich.

Little brothers are always little brothers.  

For the gringos in the family lacking that musica gene, we can get down "Hee Haw" style on the jug.   Here David blows my mind on not one but TWO jugs, and the wine bottle's even empty yet.  

As adults we have all been scattered around the states, and I looked around the packed house realizing to my amazement, that we have all grown up.  And our combined 6 children play together like a crazy mob, all looking like cousins by their eyes or their mouths or some correlating feature, especially Bella and Andres, who in a parallel universe are siblings.

So we spent Saturday afternoon and night chatting, supping, sipping, and making music, as is the Villanueva custom.  But Sunday morning, we knew we needed to get the boys out because without a yard to run in and only the garage as a makeshift playroom, they needed to be able to be themselves, wild and loud,  without getting in trouble.  So we went to Olympia to see what we could find.  We didn't really have an agenda or plan, but just felt spontaneous adventure calling.  We found our state's capitol.  It was like a castle to the boys, and they had a lot of fun exploring inside.  After the visit to the capitol, we stumbled upon a super cool Harbor Day celebration along the marina.  

The garage was turned into a playroom for the kids.

Sunday morning we needed to get the boys out of the house full of stimuli and headed up the road to Olympia. 

I was grateful for the wide open lawns that let them run ferral and free.

Lucky for us the capitol building was open to the public that day.

Picking the found father's nose...generating some laughs from Mom, which in turn caused...

...Andres to pick our founding father's nose.  I fear a terrible statue tradition is starting here.

I love this shot of Andres taking in the massive domed ceiling of the building.  He was impressed.  

We viewed the Vietnam War Memorial.  It was deeply moving to see all those names.

Here on the boardwalk along the docks, Andres spotted tiny fish and crabs, not to mention the mussels covering the dockposts.

We perused the tent-shops and watched Scottish Bagpipers, finally grabbing some grub before making our way back to the car.  

Not before playing a bit on the toys.

Grandpa and Grandma had had a very busy and emotional two weeks, as well.  And yet they managed to find time and energy to read to Andres and  Bella.  

When we got home Monday, I was surprised at how quickly the boys pulled out their capes and masks to play outside. After a hectic end of summer, it felt like things were finally getting back to normal.

Whatever our normal may be.

Summer didn't simmer down for us, it raged to a boil with three weekends back-to-back out of town and the emotional tumult of grief and family reckonings, both done and undone, hard on the boys' schedules and thus hard on us.  In less than a month we've said goodbye to a loved one, attended a funeral, went to a reunion, had house guests from Spokane, and started homeschool.  In a few days Aaron will be back at school and things will continue to change.

Nothing stays the same.  That's what autumn reminds me every year.  And that is a good thing, a great thing, and a sad thing sometimes.  But I relish it.  I pour a cup of tea, and snuggle in with a good book or hunker down at the computer writing my own stories.  I inhale this amazing season of the year and fleeting season of life, and watch in amazement the mysterious and miraculous alchemy of changing leaves.