Among my many blessings are a pair of parents who chose to retire in San Diego, CA. My dad saw San Diego when he was a mere lad in the United States Navy, and decided that’s where he was going to grow old. Seventy years later, the choice is still a good one. Mom agrees, and come January, you never saw two people with more company underfoot.
The brother who lives in Montana seems to visit only in January, now that I think about it.
I may end up on the West Coast some fine day, but in truth, that move has little appeal. I do not care for the relentless, grinding monotony, among other things.
What can I possibly mean?
I am enjoying this year’s version of June so much I’m about to bust. The lightning bugs are starting to come out, I ate my first handful of ripe wild raspberries last night, and when I go for my evening walks, the scent of fresh cut grass frequently perfumes the air. A few weeks from now, I’ll be enduring the stinkin’ heat, tired of the stinkin’ bugs, and out of patience with the double-dog-stinkin’ allergies, but the summer is young, and I’m in love.
I fall in love with fall, too. I particularly like how the horses get shaggy coats in anticipation of winter, the sunlight goes all contrasty and sweet, and I have more energy out of sheer relief to be done with summer’s worst heat. I love making the season’s first fire in my wood stove, swilling hot tea by the pot, and wearing fuzzy socks. And then…
I’m ready for it to snow, already, please. I’m ready for all the writing time that other people think is intended to celebrate the winter holidays. I’m ready for the succession of three-day weekends, and for a pause in my usual progression of cross-country road trips. I’m ready for Christmas cookies (Carolyn Brown, are you reading this?), and for mistletoe (Richard Armitage, this means you, fella).
I’m ready for the cold to let up, and for the crocuses to remind me that spring isn’t far away. I’m ready for the peepers to sing to their little froggy true loves, and for the marvelous profusion of spring flowers—daffodils, tulips, forsythia, lilacs, oh, I could go on and on—to gladden my winter-weary heart.
All of which is to say that, for me, change has a role to play in the rejuvenation process. I find things to look forward to about each season, no matter how often that season comes around. Because my environment changes in this orderly but never entirely predictable fashion, I pay more attention to it, and enjoy its various pleasures a little more fully for knowing tomorrow, next week, or next month, they will be gone for a long time.
So… what do you enjoy most about the arrival of summer?
To one commenter below, in the spirit of enjoying seasonal change, I’ll give a signed copy of “Lady Sophie’s Christmas Wish.”