Summer Be Gone (or, Praise The Lord And Pass The Ammunition)
The end of summer brings me relief, every time: we made it through another one and are still breathing.
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One of my daughters falters before winter coming on, a thing I don't completely understand but feel might include fingers around her heart, a constricting dread, occasional flashes of terror, a frozen-ness of mind and spirit, and a coming back to life in the spring.
I love winter. Minnesota was the best place I ever spent a winter, even in a winter of the lowest snowfall on record. The two winters in northern China come in a close second. The impression of being on the roof of the world, the wideness of field and lake and swamp and blue sky, the cold clean cold. The air I breathed in like diamonds.
I love fall and spring even more, from goldenrod and crunchy leaves and wood smoke and Christmas coming to forsythia and crocuses and stunning clouds.
Summer? Death. Mid-July to the end of August, anyhow.
Perhaps it is partly due to growing up in southern California, where the summers seemed forever and suffocating, or living in Samoa, where it was gorgeous but never changed, ever. Perhaps it was added to in Europe, where the city-folk drain away in August as everyone heads to whatever small or large body of water there is.
Some things about summer I do love. The piled-up thunderheads, the flowers, the sleeveless touch of warm air, oceans and lakes, soaking in the sun (when it is cooler than 83 degrees), the scent of wild anise. But only for two or maybe three weeks; by the time the middle of July is here, and the next 6-8 hot, sweaty, humid, boring, stifling weeks stretch out forever before me...oof. It feels endless. It will never, never end, and we will continue stuck, nowhere to move ahead to, no change ahead, dripping and fuzzy-headed and defeated.
Okay, so maybe it isn't quite that bad. But it feels that way on July 17th. And August 5th.
I am so glad September is here! And that new things are on their way. What they are exactly, I have no idea. Well, some ideas - four, in fact. But the reality of them and their possibilities, and the things to accomplish in their direction, and the nights of 65 degrees - they all bring me back to life. Sweet relief.
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One of my daughters falters before winter coming on, a thing I don't completely understand but feel might include fingers around her heart, a constricting dread, occasional flashes of terror, a frozen-ness of mind and spirit, and a coming back to life in the spring.I love winter. Minnesota was the best place I ever spent a winter, even in a winter of the lowest snowfall on record. The two winters in northern China come in a close second. The impression of being on the roof of the world, the wideness of field and lake and swamp and blue sky, the cold clean cold. The air I breathed in like diamonds.
I love fall and spring even more, from goldenrod and crunchy leaves and wood smoke and Christmas coming to forsythia and crocuses and stunning clouds.Summer? Death. Mid-July to the end of August, anyhow.
Perhaps it is partly due to growing up in southern California, where the summers seemed forever and suffocating, or living in Samoa, where it was gorgeous but never changed, ever. Perhaps it was added to in Europe, where the city-folk drain away in August as everyone heads to whatever small or large body of water there is.
Some things about summer I do love. The piled-up thunderheads, the flowers, the sleeveless touch of warm air, oceans and lakes, soaking in the sun (when it is cooler than 83 degrees), the scent of wild anise. But only for two or maybe three weeks; by the time the middle of July is here, and the next 6-8 hot, sweaty, humid, boring, stifling weeks stretch out forever before me...oof. It feels endless. It will never, never end, and we will continue stuck, nowhere to move ahead to, no change ahead, dripping and fuzzy-headed and defeated.
Okay, so maybe it isn't quite that bad. But it feels that way on July 17th. And August 5th.
I am so glad September is here! And that new things are on their way. What they are exactly, I have no idea. Well, some ideas - four, in fact. But the reality of them and their possibilities, and the things to accomplish in their direction, and the nights of 65 degrees - they all bring me back to life. Sweet relief.
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