Ever since I left school all those years ago, I’ve been searching for summer. Grown-up World means that you don’t get those long empty days of boredom and potential. You never feel the release that the end of school gives you for minimum 12 years (and in my case 17, although I really shouldn’t count the summer after kindergarten—how seriously can you take half-day school that includes recess and nap time?).
Last summer I only remember sitting in front of our new house watching Hummingbird Theatre. We’d worked so hard for so long on getting into the house that we were not inspired to do much else. Summer was as close to sedentary as we could get.
This year the yearning for summer is particularly strong, probably in part because I’m looking for a structured full-time job right now and (unless it’s a telecommute) it will remove me from the summer that is wafting in my office door right now. I know the time grows short to appreciate this.
Two days ago I took a short road trip to Mount Gretna with Mary the Photographer for a travel blog entry. With the people walking along the road with beach towels, headed to the lake, and the Jigger Shop (ice cream!), and the tall, cool trees in the Fairy Garden, it felt like summer.
Last night Joe and I picked blueberries at a friend’s house (he’s on vacation and didn’t want them to go to waste). I’ve never done blueberries before, I would not go out of my way to do it again, but it needed to be done. Neighbors were running lawn mowers, the friend’s son-in-law brought us cold beer while we picked, kids were running around yelling. Even though I’m not much of a berry picker, it was nice.
But the best part was driving home through the Valley at sundown in Joe’s Camaro with the top down and the Beach Boys singing “Darlin’.” That’s summer.