The lightening storm last night burned up all the heat of summer. Today autumn blew in from the north and I wore a jacket on my morning walk. The geese have been honking their way south for a few days, and school has been in session officially for two weeks. But even though I’ve complained of the heat, in the sudden vanishing of summer I acknowledge a bit of sadness.
Gone are the days of dreamy schedules, being transported by books to mysterious lands, stargazing around a campfire and catching fireflies. Not that they have fireflies where we live here in the west, but I remember them from my childhood back east, mini fireworks captured in a glass jar and used as night lights. Searching for crawdads in the streams at the bottom of ravines, holding watermelon seed spitting contests, finding ripe raspberries protected by scratchy thorns and eating freshly picked snow peas from the garden all helped make my childhood summers magical.
I wonder, do my children have any of that magic in their memories? Do they have that sense of confidence and independence gained from being free from constant control? I hope so. They had unsupervised adventures with their cousins floating down a stream and playing at the tree fort. We camped outside of Yellowstone (not Mammoth again!) and they explored the mountain shadowing our tents, survived pit toilets, started campfires and had more s’mores than are medically advised. And when we finally returned home from our road trip they had the blessing of getting totally bored, which I believe is also necessary, so that we had something to look forward with to the start of school and the energy of autumn.
But I’m wondering how to hold that summer magic inside me all year long? In the deep cold when my heart yearns to sit in the shade with a glass of lemonade or swing on a hammock under a leafy tree and watch the clouds go by how can I reach into my memories and uncork that nectar? I thinking perhaps that the key is to fill myself to overflowing with the happy memories today, it’s not too late, there’s still warmth to sleep under the stars, sunshine to soak in and marshmallows to toast. Summer for me is about allowing ourselves to receive all that God has to offer and showing our gratitude by fully enjoying it. So I’ll wish you an eternal summer in your soul with a poem of a Provo Canyon hike I took in Utah this summer…
Canyon sanctum
Step over nine beetles
Beneath deaf aspen applause,
Spy ruby berries
Covert on the vine.
Witness the open beak
Trill of a starling and
Boulders toe gripped
By a twisted pine.
Bumper car clouds
Evade and collide
As bungee caterpillars
Dangle and fall.
Slugs who embellish
The edge of the path
Feel no need for speed at all.
~Elizabeth Caldwell Grant
