Summer’s Song

The cicadas have been singing their song. Somehow it reminds me of the summers of my youth. Everyday it gets to the eighties or nineties. That’s very unusual here in the upper Midwest near the shores of Lake Michigan, but it has been normal this year.

When the inhabitants of this cool, damp climate complain of humidity, I usually laugh. I grew up in Missouri where the summer air is dense. People here are humidity babies. Yet, when you get hit with high humidity several days in a row and it stays humid at night, the tomatoes grow, but humans feel oppressed.

I thought sure I would have plenty of cool, rainy, and inconsistent weather to complain about when we got back from Florida on Memorial Day, but instead I was welcomed back by an authentic summertime climate, and it has stayed.

I like the predictable warmth, but it has been so oddly pervasive this year that I have almost grown tired of it. That’s the way you are supposed to feel in mid August. By September, I feel like I need to refocus and get serious about accomplishing something. That’s the way you are supposed to feel in September.

Yet, I still love summer with the fervency of a child who is set free from the structure of school days.

The beauty of summer is…

• Most everyday is suitable for outdoor activities.
• Air conditioning is a delightful oasis.
• A cold beer or glass of ice tea tastes even better.

You can…

• work hard, get dirty, sweat, take a shower, and then drink a beer. You know that you have accomplished something.
• watch grass, flowers, and vegetables grow before your very eyes.
• go to the beach and be in another world.
• eat meals on the patio.
• go to outdoor concerts and festivals.
• walk, run, and bike through the neighborhood or wooded trails.
• wash your own car, barefooted.
• talk to your neighbors because you are both outside.

There is something about summer that both gets us excited about activities and causes us to slow down and enjoy the people and the beauty around us. Enjoy its waning days.

Photo Credit: Don Hankins. Creative Commons.