The summer visitors have arrived. They show up all of a sudden, in an array of styles and colors that practically scream, “summer is here!” One day the landscape comprises a crowd dressed in varying hues of green and the next — well, see for yourself.
My “Little Miss Kim” lilac shows up in a burst of grapey color and then immediately fades to white, leaving behind a trail of sweet perfume that fills the yard for days.
Here in eastern Massachusetts, the transformation from late spring to early summer is a visually joyous one. In the woods, the air feels both lighter and fresher — a soft caress has replaced the chilly slap of April. I may still need a light jacket for my morning walk, but the knitted cap and gloves remain in the closet.
Yet underneath all the outward cheer, early summer leaves me feeling a little empty. As the weather warms up an old sadness resurfaces as its mid-June anniversary approaches. And as a young, working mother, the close of the school year, with its many festivities and fond farewells, was always tinged with melancholy. One more year of their childhood torn from the calendar.
My days of year-end band concerts, sewing on name tags, and packing trunks for summer camp are long over, but for me, June will always outrank January as an important marker of passing time.
The great thing about getting ‘older,’ though, is that I no longer have to concern myself with summer’s superficial branding. While I do pay attention to advice about protecting my skin, I can turn the page when I see headlines like, “4 Weeks to a Bikini Body,” because, really, who cares?
Instead, I’ll look beyond the sunny façade and shake things up. That warmer air and lack of weather-related obstacles frees us all to tackle something different, something hard.
Never finished Middlemarch? Maybe this is the summer to do it. Climb a mountain, learn another language, or try a new form of writing. Test the limits of your brain and your body.
Or—as my husband and I plan to do after decades of full-time work—give yourself a sabbatical. Taking a road trip, living someplace new, and launching a project are all on our agenda.
So yeah, the summer visitors are here, let the season begin.
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This post also appears today on Women’s Voices for Change.
You did it. This is nice. Simple but thoughtful. And again the photos are lovely! K
this may be my favorite of what I’ve seen of your writing. June is indeed a bittersweet month, I say as a teacher….
I love that photo of the window with the billowing curtains! Thanks for this one, Judith. We’ve having a wonderful time on our trek through the Southwest, but a more different landscape from June is Massachusetts is hard to imagine. I’m glorying in the dry heat and flowering cacti and monolithic sandstone ridges, but it’s also nice to remember the pleasures waiting for us at home. xo M
Wonderful photography!
A beautiful post, Judith. Your flowers, and your photographs of them, are exquisite. And your musings at the start of summer resonate with a part of each of our hearts. Rereading this post will help me miss you two less after your short visit with us is finished. Thank you for your many gifts.