I remember summer as kid. The quiet of the house. The sun shining bright day after day after day. A promising change from winters colorless presence. The song of the birds and the buzz of fluffy bumble bees from the break of day until coyotes and mosquitoes took over the fields and forest.
We didn't have cable television and there wasn't any other kind of electronic entertainment available when I was young. We played and rested and just, were.
I remember endless card games around our dining room table, softball in the front yard, swinging on the wooden swing hung under the large oak tree. I can taste the blackcaps that grew in the sandy parts of our little world and will never forget the buckets of apples I collected and fed to my "favorite cow". (I'm sure the neighbors wondered why number 32 ran to the fence ahead of the rest every day.)
I can smell the clothes on the line and look back on how peaceful it was to hang those towels as I watched the bluebirds fly back and forth into the birdhouses my mom had built.
There was endless amounts of time to sprawl out on the hill facing the rarely traveled road to think. And hear. And breath in the summer air.
In the midst of all the lovely memories, I'm sure I said I was bored from time to time. I guarantee I had the occasional squabble with my siblings and I'd be lying if I didn't say I spent a day or two moping because I couldn't go swimming during a heat wave.
But looking back I see the beauty in those days. I understand the importance of a summer of quiet rest with less to do than our busy selves might like. I encourage thankful responses in my children when they feel "bored" and I teach as many card games as I can remember or discover afresh. I pick berries and lay on the cool grass without fear of wasted moments. I let my kids eat boxed macaroni and cheese more than normal and squeeze lemons into sugar water almost daily. I open windows so I can hear the hammock creak back and forth until dinner time and rinse off tiny dirt covered toes after shoveling sand into yellow Tonka trucks. I don't stop them when they roll down the hill or scoop buckets of water from the brook. Chances are I'll get those stains out anyway so why fuss about it.
ne build fires and watch the stars, catch fireflies and invent new smores. We swing on swings and rest on neatly made beds that seem to stay that way when it's extra hot at night. We eat fresh veggies and invest in more paper plates than I'd like to admit to. We live in an offbeat way from our routine driven school days and I think I like the variety best of all.
It's precious to be in this place in life, I'm aware of the quickly passing time.
I'll hold on to this summer as I know I'll hold on to the next. Thankful for the moments, the memories, the pouring of heart into heart knowing some will fade over the years and some will last a lifetime.
"My life passes as swiftly as the evening shadows. I am withering away like grass." Psalm 102:11