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We're in the middle of a heat wave. Now I remember many warm Indian summers. But this is actually a heat wave! I've been going around telling everyone that if this is global warming, bring it on!

This last weekend, we visited my parents on Quinte's Isle. They go south to Florida soon, and I'm always uneasy when they leave us and go out of range of travel for so long. The leaves in the County are starting to turn, but not on the very southern tip by the water where they are.

There it still felt like summer. In fact, with the good weather, I was determined I was going to take summer as far into October as I could. After starting a fire for my still sleeping wife and daughter Saturday morning, I got my water shoes, headed down to the water, and slowly, painfully eased myself, inch by inch, out into the water. After about ten minutes of doing this, I sunk myself in up to my neck, and shocked myself into acceptance. Then I dove under the water, and began swimming along the limestone cracks. It was summer again, briefly. I did this three more times on the weekend. The water, though cold, still had a summer look to it - normally the water goes darker and bluer. But it held its rich blue green colour. The trees on the limestone ledges were still green - those that were still standing from the big winds two days earlier. And down the bay, Outlet beach still shone with the bright white sand.

My parents threw me a kind-of birthday party - "kind of" because my birthday is still six weeks off. But it is a big one - four oh. I was touched. And even a little surprised - more surprised than I will be when the inevitable real surprise party comes.

When we left I had a long look at them - trying to memorize their features, their clothes, their stance. It will be a few months before I see them again. I have to hold onto that.

Yesterday, I saw another family member of mine. I was headed to Toronto on business first thing in the morning. I called my daughter from the airport, to make sure she was up. She mentioned that my brother had called looking for me - he hadn't seen me at the airport.

I looked around for him, round the back of the Tim Horton's and in the seats by the gate. I did not find him. I boarded the plane and took my seat. A newspaper whacked me in the head. I looked up, and he said, "My crazy brother!" I was relieved (the last time I was on a plane with him he announced loudly to the entire cabin that we were engaged, and headed to Ontario to be married.)My brother fiddled with his Crackberry for much of the flight, trying to arrange for a rental car at Pearson airport. We talked pleasantly about his business, his step-children, my daughter's horse lessons. My brother is usually hurrying from one priorityto the next, so it was good to have him captive for an hour.

There were no relatives on the flight home, but like my trip on the summer solstice, I flew home in the sunset. The haze from the heatwave blended the pink into the blue again, just like my site's background image does here. The orange glow of the deep sun drenched the rudders on the wing in warmth. Over in the distance, Quinte's Isle shimmered beautifully in the huge expanse of Lake Ontario. I looked up the sandbars, and found the point where Ihad been two days earlier. I considered how apropos this was. My moments of late have been filled with my family.

I touched the glass with my hands, and whispered softly, "Home."