The snowbells, daffodils, tulips, camellias, azaleas and the rhododendrons mostly, have faded, and I hear the jingle of ice in my new Coleman metal cooler hailing that summer is in the wet wings of dying spring.
I like the long days that mean I can do lots of outside things and not worry about it getting dark before I finish. Since the Pacific Northwest summer sunset comes late, it stays light until after 9:30 some evenings, and that's good enough to get in one more cast into the lake or lay another foot of decking.
I love the way TV personalities who were complaining about the rain all season long will not begin to have fits over the heat. What pleases these people? Well, they're TV people, and always finding a controversy is their job, after all, even if none exist.
Weather: What we always discuss when we meet others, and which fills in those silent moments chatting with others at parties.
My fondest summertime thing is BBQ get togethers with the neighbs. The kids romp while mothers scream for them to be careful, guys gather in packs and talk about "them Seahawks,"
and teens sit slumped over their cell phones as their fingers fly. There'll be burgers, beer, Cokes, potato salad, baked beans, cherry pies, watermelon, chips, dips and lots of dogs barking on the other side of the fence.
Ah sweet summertime.
We'll be pitching our new tent trailer at a variety of locations, tossing the raft into a lot of lakes, and watching sunsets through the evergreens or across the Pacific as we sip coffees.
One great adventure scheduled for September is a week in Hells Canyon in Idaho for a five-hour jet boat trip down the "river of no return," to a most remote lodge. Hope to see Marilyn Monroe along the way (who gets this?)
What dread will be mine when the autumn comes and the daylight is beginning to go quicker, and the dark, rainy, cold promise of winter chills my spirit.
Yet, I love the holidays, too, so what to worry.
I guess ever season has its comps.
Nevertheless, I would live in perpetual summer if I had the choice, and that's my version of Heaven (do they have seasons???).
Give me a dog, a fishing pole, a warm day with Sally beside me and I am already there. Hello, St. Peter, are they biting today? Can you pass me those worms?
Of course, I assume I will go to Heaven, but I do worry that the only thing I have prayed for these last many years is to get a heads up on those Mega Million numbers just once!
Actually, my version of Heaven is a lot like summertime. There's plenty of time to do it all and there's a pretty sun over my shoulder. Guess I have a glimpse of the hereafter every time I catch a trout of size. Some say you're nearest to God in a garden, but I feel it is when I am summer-timing on a camp trip under pines when the smell of bacon is in the air and the fire is crackling below the coffee pot.