I know it is summer now because it feels like summer. I feel like going out more and doing all kinds of things. I've gotten past the frantic planting schedule of spring and my weekends are now open for reading, napping, casual yard work chores, and possibly working on more posts.
I have been having vivid flashbacks to summers in Southern Illinois, all the way from childhood through grad school. Not necessarily specific events, but the way life felt going on around me and the way I felt being a part of it. There's a jumble of people, water, sun, laughing, food, games, places. Summer weather conjures up times when I was happier and life seemed promising and full of expectation and energy. I remember the me that I more often was and want to be again. And most importantly, it seems positively possible to find her again. That is the vitality of summer.
Of course, this is early summer. If it turns as hot as it can in the middle of the summer, if days turn humid with temperatures in the 90s, I won't feel like doing anything. I will spend hours sitting miserably in one spot in front of a fan, wearing the skimpiest clothing I own, and trying not to move. I have a few plans to make things a little better during those stifling heat waves. Yesterday I braved pulling a spider colony on top of my head and got the awnings out of the shed. Now I just need to figure out how to install them. I'm also planning to get one of those portable air conditioners so we have something for the downstairs besides a fan. I have a mental picture of sheets tacked up in doorways to corral the cold air, and it reminds me of Grandma & Grandpa Cory's house in Springfield --a place overflowing with fond memories, especially in the summer when I often went and stayed for a week at a time. Grandpa licking his ice cream bowl clean, endless Schwann's ice cream bars and sandwiches, 4th of July fireworks with the neighbors, a perfect view of the city fireworks from Gabatoni's parking lot behind the house, and of course, the sheet at the top of the stairs to keep the air conditioned coolness in the bedrooms upstairs.
But today it is hard to be pessimistic about upcoming heat waves. The sun is out, everything is lush and green, there is a lovely breeze, and the National Weather Service says it is only 61 degrees. Speaking of which, I really ought to get my own outdoor thermometer. This is the time of year when I really feel like doing all those the things I've thought about doing forever. I feel intensely motivated to finally get that outdoor thermometer, to finally invest in a composter, to cut down that tree before it gets too big, to cook again, to make my own iced tea and stop buying the stuff at the store, to figure out problems and challenges I've pushed aside for months.
Of course, I also want to just stop and enjoy the perfect moments that are abundant on weekends like this one. Yesterday afternoon I went out to water everything. While I had the sprinkler in the front yard I ended up just sitting on the front steps, watching the water move and taking a good, long look at the yard. I suddenly realized that "all the work" I thought I had left to do wasn't so much after all. Sure, there's still a lot of room to work with in coming years, but for right now, my yard is exactly the way I want it: full of wild grasses waving in the breeze, young plants who will eventually fill out the space around them, brand new plants and some of last year's slower specimens waiting to put on their first show later this summer (it looks like the lavender is going to bloom this year!!) , and annual seedlings that promise varying degrees of success in making it to flower stage. I know that other people may look at my yard and see a chaotic mess of weeds and whatnots, but that truly is what I want my yard to look like, and I've succeeded beautifully. Then, this morning I hung clothes on the line, which is practically a meditation and something which brings me a great deal of inner peace and happiness. And now I'm sitting here in the back sunroom surveying those clothes on the line, feeling the cool breezes from the open windows and thinking that, while I want to jump up and do half a dozen things all at the same time, I also just want to sit here and feel this good.
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