Why all this hustle and bustle during the Christmas season?

Christmas is in five months. I wanted to be the first to let you know, but Hobby Lobby beat me to it by a month.

We had not yet celebrated Flag Day and the first day of summer when the Christmas season began.

While we were unpacking the shorts, the vendors were unpacking artificial trees dusted with fake snow.

While we were looking for our flip-flops, Santa was looking for his boots.

While we were heating up the grill, Santa was heating up the sleigh.

It turns out that the most wonderful time of the year is now halfway through.

Ho, ho, ho and pa rum pum pum pum.

Today it is over 30 degrees. The grass is brittle, the drooping ferns are begging for water and rabbits that are ravaging the garden are knocking on the back door, panting and with their tongues hanging out.

Who wants to light a Christmas spice candle?

How about giving the Winter Wonderland Snow Globe a good shake? Harder. Harder. That's it!

Oops.

Please excuse my inner cheapskate. I have never liked being rushed. I can move fast, talk fast, bake chocolate chip cookies fast, throw sheets in the laundry that a child puked on, pack a suitcase quickly, and leave the house quickly – but I can't stand being told to go faster.

I will take my time. I will savor the last heat of summer and the last barks of the dog days of summer.

I will leisurely stroll through the devastated shelves of school supplies at the store, throwing my arms in the air and shouting, “Thank you, Lord, those days are behind us!” I will watch the neighborhood kids shuffle to the bus stop on the corner.

I will celebrate Labor Day by not working at all.

I will watch maples, birches and oaks turn yellow, orange and purple. I will enjoy the increasingly cold nights and the comfort of a thick sweater. I will drive back roads at dusk and hope to see deer.

We'll rake huge piles of leaves in the backyard of that old house, then call our grandchildren who live in a new development with tiny trees you can snap in half with your bare hands, and tell them that fun is in store.

I'll make a big deal out of turning on the heat. We'll both complain about the cost of utilities and the gas company's monopoly. Tradition.

We will enjoy apples, pumpkins, squash, and endless zucchini, and in November I will win another wrestling match with a turkey.

I will watch the very last leaf fall and the very first snowflake fall. Then… and only then.

Don't pressure me.

Lori Borgman is a columnist, author and speaker. Her new book, What Happens at Grandma's Stays at Grandma's, is available now. Email her at [email protected].