With each passing day, our cottage is looking more and more like an actual home. It is with a bit of trepidation that I can finally say: if we were to plaster tomorrow, I wouldn't freak out about all the things that aren't good enough yet. It's not perfect, but it's passable. I cannot even describe my relief to be at this point.
It's a good thing we are here, too. Winter is most definitely coming. The days are getting noticeably shorter. The staghorn sumac that grows like crazy on our land is already starting to turn its fiery bright red. Blackberries are ripening, and it's getting downright chilly at night. Every once in awhile, a golden leaf will lilt gently down from the sky.
These late summer signs would normally be cause for rejoicing—cool, glorious fall is on its way!—but this year, they instill a mild panic in me. Eeee gads, autumn, hold off just a little bit! We can't plaster in freezing temperatures, so I'm hoping the frosts hold off until late September.