Summer is begging you to slow down

So listen

Jun 28, 2024

Remember summer when you were a kid? I remember my bike with the banana seat and the tassels on the handlebars that blew in the wind. I remember all the containers we used to catch creatures like huge crickets and baby snakes. We would watch them for hours before releasing them back into the grass. One day, I saw a bunch of baby frogs emerge from a hole in the ground and declared it a miracle. I even placed one on my grandmother’s chest as she napped on the couch. I was too excited to wait for her to wake up.

When the sun set, it lit up our small town in vibrant shades of burnt orange and hot pink. My mom would give us popsicles as we watched day turn into night from the lawn chairs on the back porch. We listened to the sound of the crickets welcoming in the fireflies. We would try and catch them in our hands. When dark fell, we were told to come inside. But the fun was not over. We would line up at the sliding glass door, turn on the backyard lights, and watch hundreds of June bugs arrive. Their hard bodies bouncing against the glass - drawn to the bright light. We would dare each other to run outside in the swarm of them. I was the only girl, I had to prove I could do anything the boys could. And these big frogs (my favorite) would always arrive with the June bugs. I loved the sound of their guttural “ribbit” and the feel of their jelly bodies in between my hands.

The summers are always begging us to go outside. But as adults, we tend to lose the wonder we had as children. Not to mention all the responsibilities we have to tend to. But the summer days are long. It feels like the universe gives us more time on purpose. Most of us don’t take summers off like the school kids. But that does not mean we can’t enjoy all the things summer brings to us.

Every morning I get up early - around 6 am. I write a little in my journal, drink coffee, and take my dog Midge for a walk. It is so quiet in the neighborhood. The heat of the sun has not yet arrived. Everything is bursting with new blooms and overgrown on the sidewalks and trails. I’m not sure what I will find. But it never fails that I am delighted by something. A tiny snail making its way on the sidewalk. A bird’s song. A new hydrangea bush in vibrant pink and purple. Two curious baby bunnies. A new dog that Midge has never met before.

This year, I spent my evenings working while my daughter did her school homework. I saw it as extra time I could get away with to get more done. It was the season for it. But now she waits for us all day to stop working. So my husband and I promise to quit at a decent time. We put away all technology. We go on family walks as the sun begins to fall behind the hills. We take turns picking movies. We all sit crunched together with Midge moving between us. And games. We collect them. We have scheduled in a camping trip. A beach adventure with close friends. And trips to see the grandparents. You really can’t get the time back. You can’t wait for it to open up more in your schedule. You have to claim it before it is gone.

No more homework or rush schedules. No set bedtimes. Open windows with the hum of the fan. The taste of peaches. Free summer concerts in the park. Weekend road trips. Camping in Yosemite. The tide pools at Crescent Bay beach. Make a list of all the things you love about summer and find the time to indulge each one.

I went back east to visit my parents this month. I like to refer to my mother as Snow White. She is the animal whisperer. Each time we visit, there are new animals she has befriended on her property. We were eating dinner on her back porch the first night and she told us her “friends” would be coming as soon as the sun went down. She brought out her treats, faced her chair towards the woods and soon enough, they emerged. We stood inside the screen door, watching. They did not know us and she said we would scare them off. Then up the stairs, a little bandit face critter lumbered up. His female partner was not far behind. One of their five babies sat, peeking through the slats of the deck. Raccoons. How I adore raccoons. They are little woodland clowns in superhero masks. I see people on Instagram who for one reason or another end up caring for one found in the wild and it joins them as a new dog would. Swoon. My moment of zen each evening was watching the raccoons come up on the deck and eat each evening. Especially on one evening when an opossum decided to join them. Nature. It is the best in summertime.

This Summer Day

Who made the world?
Who made the swan, and the black bear?
Who made the grasshopper?
This grasshopper, I mean —
the one who has flung herself out of the grass,
the one who is eating sugar out of my hand,
who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down —
who is gazing around with her enormous and complicated eyes.
Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face.
Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away.
I don't know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down
into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass,
how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,
which is what I have been doing all day.
Tell me, what else should I have done?
Doesn't everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?