Summertime

We’ve now reached the midpoint of Summer, which has demonstrated some peculiar weather patterns: unexpected heat in early June and a monsoon of rain in early July. Still, after six months of you-know-what, that season whose name shall not be spoken, just about any weather is welcome. The heat and rain are good for both flowers and veggies in the garden, even if these weather patterns wreak havoc on picnics, hiking, boating, golfing or whatever other plans one might have made.
 
In preparing for this column, that 1902 song “In the Good Old Summertime” has been ruminating in my mind. Googling the lyrics, the words are a bit silly, but enjoyable to remember. Then there is the tune from the Opera “Porgy and Bess”… “Summertime, and the Livin’ Is Easy,” as well as Nat King Cole’s 1960’s song of fun, “Those Lazy, Hazy, Crazy Days of Summer.” Well, yes, Summer can be good, lazy, or easy, but perhaps less so for farmers whose time is taken up working the land, or gardeners who spend time on their knees, not necessarily praying (except for a little more rain) but pulling weeds, a never-ending summer chore.
 
Thinking back to the Summers of my youth, after a few morning chores, the rest of the day was dedicated to play with the kids in the neighborhood. We put endless miles on our bicycles, played countless games of baseball and raided one neighbor's garden (tsk, tsk) for some fresh tomatoes, which we ate like apples, with a bit of salt. Mom never knew where we were during the day, and she was probably happier about this than we were. The 6:00 p.m. Angelus bell at the Church was our dinner bell, so we came in the back door, washed our hands and presented ourselves at table. After dishes were done (there were seven of us; each had an assigned day for kitchen duty) we were back outside. We had to be in our own yard when the street lights came on, and then we played kick-the-can until it was just too dark to see.
 
While I’m planning to head down to Tanglewood next month to listen to the Boston Symphony, there were other sounds of summer back then that seemed more suited to this mostly-outdoor season: lawn mowers in the distance, the chime of the ice cream truck, and my favorite: the slamming of the screen door at our summer cottage. We often rented a cottage on Lake Erie where we learned to swim in two-foot waves. Evenings there were spent catching lightning bugs (or fireflies, depending on where one grew up) and for walking to the general store for penny candy, which, in the 1960’s still cost a penny. Now I treat myself to one Maple Creemee per summer at the small shop on Lake Josephine.
 
These days I’m content with ample porch time as well as an afternoon dog-walk up on the mountain. Soon Emma and I will head up to one or another of our local lakes where I sit with a book and take a splash in the water while she plays with rocks along the shoreline. I’ve seen Loons there, as well as a Bald Eagle a few summers ago. Strangers are less strange at the lake: people greet me, but allow me to get back to my book hastily. So… I hope your summer is good, easy, lazy or crazy, or however you like it. I feel a nap coming on…