Five Things | Summer Love
I have a love-hate relationship with summer. It's a combination of the insufferable heat and humidity of the Mid-Atlantic region where I've spent my entire life, and the mental furlough I feel among the students breaking from school and neighbors dawdling home from vacation. The repose is too much for this type-A, in-the-saddle kind of gal.
Yet there's always been some magical element to summertime. A tinkling of bells as the number on my math teacher's chalkboard got smaller, counting down the days until we were free at long last. I would daydream about the smell of sunscreen and sandy feet and all the books I'd read under the big pine tree in the backyard. I would write in my journal about summer romances and games of freeze tag or hide-and-seek with the kids in the neighborhood.
With the ups and downs of my relationship with the season, there are five things about summertime that will always have my heart.
(1) There is nothing more stimulating to the senses than watching a thunderstorm roll in.
You can always tell in the early morning. You walk out to get the paper and the air is so sticky that you feel like you've strolled into a sauna. The clouds grow large and puffy throughout the day and you watch as the leaves flip their underbellies toward the sky, awaiting the first sip to quench their thirst. The breeze grows still, the smell of rain in the air, and the tickle of electricity moves along the surface of your skin. You can almost hear the low-frequency hum as all of nature bows and waits. Then, the great dance begins.
(2) The most freeing feeling is driving in the country with the windows down.
One of my favorite things to do when I'm stressed or worried about something is going for a drive. I turn onto a back road, roll the windows down, dial the music up, and let the stress roll right off my shoulders as the wind whips my hair around. I stick my hand out the window and feel the resistance of the gusting air against my palm, scooping up every ounce of inspiration from the world around me. I always return from my journey feeling lighter and at peace.
(3) Late night runs to the ice cream parlor is my kind of romance.
When I was in the third grade, my family lived within walking distance of a Baskin Robbins ice cream shop. I remember what a treat it was to linger at the glass-encased counter, staring at all the pastel concoctions and choose my potion. Sometimes, I'd prefer the sweetness of the trendy cotton candy ice cream, never selecting the popular bubble gum variety which always reminded me of liquid amoxicillin with whole gumballs that never blew into good bubbles. Most of the time though, I'd pick a classic like mint chocolate chip or plain chocolate because it was creamier and the flavor lasted longer on my tongue. Even now, when I visit the local ice cream shop on a hot summer night, the nostalgia tastes just as sweet as it did when I was nine.
(4) The deepest connections are created on porch swings or around the table on the deck.
I truly believe that international conflicts could be solved if the peace talks were held around a picnic table on a deck somewhere. The sound of summer nights demands a quiet presence from any human existence, a devotion to the chorus of crickets singing their sweet lullaby to the world. Some of my best and deepest connections have been around such a table, with a glass of wine and a citronella candle casting a glow on the faces around me. Sometimes I swap the table for a porch swing. Try being uptight when you are rocking to and fro, letting your feet kick out in childlike playfulness. It can't happen. What does happen is a deep and meaningful conversation, laughter, and pure bliss.
(5) You can never count high enough to number all of the fireflies in the world.
I used to live adjacent to an open field. It was a vacant plot of farmland that grew tall with grass and wildflowers. At any given time of the year, it was an exhibition of a variety of critters - deer, foxes, raccoons, groundhogs, coyotes, and the occasional bear. But every summer, as soon as the sun would sink behind the treeline, the field would come alive with tiny sparks of light. I remember trying to count them, but as the evening faded into night, I knew it was an impossible feat. Walking through the field was like an out-of-body experience.
Summer, as short as it may seem, will never be my favorite season, but it will always be magical to me. It is, after all, an abiding and indelible romance between nature and myself.
