Summer

Ah, summer, what power you have to make us suffer and like it.
Russell Baker

In the winter I look forward to the long hot days of summer, when everything is bathed in green, we’re entertained by whippoorwills and lightning bugs and we eat tomatoes right from the vine.  The pleasures of summer are too many to list.

But in the winter, when I dream of summer I don’t think much about the ticks and chiggers.  Or sweaty muggy afternoons battling weeds in the gardens.

Lately I’ve been thinking about the short calm days of winter, when it seems that nothing needs to be done immediately.  When I’m not scratching bug bites.  When sunrise is late and sunset is early.  When there is time to read books and watch movies.

But when those days come, of course, I’ll be looking forward to the joys of summer.

Thoreau advised, “Live each season as it passes; breathe the air, drink the drink, taste the fruit and resign yourself to the influences of each.”

That seems good advice these days.

And I really do love summer.  Bug bites and all.