I know the calendar claims that summer doesn’t officially start for another three weeks, but I have always considered summer to be the season that begins with Memorial Day weekend and ends with Labor Day weekend. And I have always been so very glad when it finally arrives.
When I was a child, nothing beat walking home from the last day of school year, carrying a year’s worth of desk supplies with me and trying to wrap my head around that wondrous fact that I didn’t have to go back to school for weeks. Summer meant freedom from my school schedule, long days of bike riding and playing with my friends, family barbecues, ice cream and popsicles, and frequent trips to the municipal swimming pool. What wasn’t to like about all that?
Now that I am decades (many, many decades) past my childhood, summer is still a special treat. These days, summer means nights spent sitting out on our patio, eating a meal or simply enjoying a glass of wine while the day fades slowly into a comfortably warm night. It means all of my favorite fruits are in season, so I can enjoy fresh and locally grown strawberries, cherries, watermelon and peaches. This is the time of year when a simple bacon and tomato sandwich, served with fresh corn on the cob, is more than enough for dinner.
Summer means that my yard is carpeted with lush, green grass and pots of flowers spread color everywhere. The warm weather means I can happily pack away all my coats, gloves and boots, and dressing to go out usually means nothing more than changing into a dressier pair of sandals. Although most of my regular routine remains the same, there’s something about summer that feels slower, simpler, and more in tune with nature.
Of course I know that it’s early days yet, and that by mid-August, I will probably not be enjoying summer quite so much. I’ll probably be sick of the flies and misquotes that seem to grow steadily in number as the summer progresses, and that my once lush lawn will be withering a bit, struggling against both the heat and the weeds that invade each and every year. I’ll be tired of doing so much yard work, of having to water my flower pots almost every day, and of shaving my legs each morning. (I know I could wax them, but I tried that once and it hurt. A lot.)
I’m sure that when the Labor Day weekend is over, I’ll probably be looking forward to fall, with its cooler evenings and beautiful colors. There are definite advantages to living in a climate that has four distinct seasons. But for now, at this particular moment in my life, all I can honestly feel is “welcome, summer!”