Summertime

 

If you saw my post a few days ago about my June goals, you might have seen that I committed to carving out a portion of time each day to follow some writing prompts. Today I want to share something born out of one of those prompts, because it made me smile. Today you won't find anything deep or life-changing, but perhaps it will make you smile and enjoy this beautiful season.

I'm grateful to live in a section of the country that experiences all four seasons. My heart that used to powerfully resist change now seems to need change, and the shift of seasons offers me a regular chance for newness.

Summer has been sluggish in arriving this year - which, now that I think about it, seems to be consistent with recent years. Springs of late have been cold and wet. Utilitarian, perhaps, but not the pretty version I think of with the word spring. Because of that, I have been aching for summer.

I always look forward to the warmth it brings (until it slams into unbearably hot), and this year is no exception. I love watching the warm breezes blow through long grass. It's the Midwestern version of waves, I suppose. I love seeing trees, full with leaves, creating pillowy privacy curtains. I love seeing flowers in full bloom - especially roses. 

I love leaving home without a jacket. I love the smell of freshly cut grass - especially if I didn't have to be the one to cut it. I love the blue waters of the lake if I'm fortunate enough to make a visit. I love sunsets gripping the evening as long as possible before finally falling below the horizon. I love seeing bright green crops push up in fields.

I love the foods of summer: the corn on the cob, the watermelon, the grilled everything, the ice cream dripping down waffle cones.

Life feels fullest, somehow, in the summer. Everything is at its fullest, richest, and most robust. It's the pinnacle of everything we've worked for. Full growth. Full bloom. Full length. Full life. Nothing is starting up or dying out. It's all full - right down to the amount of daytime we enjoy.

Our summer looks differentt his year, so some of the things I enjoy most won't happen in our little piece of the world, but I am grateful to enjoy the things I love so much in the neighborhood around us. And I am grateful to dream about a year to come when we will have a yard. And flowers. And a place to put our grill and hammock. And a fence to let Lexi run and roll in the grass. 

This year, summer may be stunted in Shafferland, but it's full and rich all around us. We are grateful.