Summertime

Summertime by Jodi Nelson, written September 26, 2019 / blogged July 19, 2024.

In the past, I always wished I could live in a place where there were four distinct seasons: spring, summer, fall, and winter. I’ve struggled living in the Pacific Northwest. I’ve always felt like we get just a tiny taste of each season, except for spring. Spring in the PNW seems to linger longer than I’d prefer. Gray, wet, and chilly days seem to surround us from November to July.

I love fall.

Fall-when the days are warm, the nights are cool, and the leaves are changing color against a clear blue sky. I feel connected to the chunky little squirrels who are preparing for winter. I “spring” clean our home, reorganizing and storing away food for winter and holiday cooking and baking.

I make lists in anticipation of Halloween and Thanksgiving. I reset the timers on the lights as night comes earlier and lasts longer. Our favorite TV shows return. We hear the sounds of football games on Friday nights from the high school football field. And it’s the start of all things Christmas.

Winter wonderland.

Christmas is always filled with hope, joy, friends, and family. After full summers and busy fall's, the winter months are soothing to me. I love Christmas. The twinkling lights and Christmas carols soothe my soul. There is anticipation of the first snowfall and the peacefulness it brings. The earth around me is covered in a blanket of white. Things are so quite, and everyone is less hurried.

I have always loved Winter. I love the crunch of the snow under my feet, the birds prancing around looking for seed, and the still quiet streets.

There is spring.

I have a love hate relationship with spring. If we get snow in the winter, I almost always feel a bit of sadness when the snow melts away. The world around me seems a bit dirty, sad, and depressed.

I crave blue skies in the spring, but I also marvel as plants and trees start to bud and bloom. I take walks often in our neighborhood and stop many times to take in a cluster of tulips in someone’s flowerbed. I am mesmerized by the color green, it feels as if overnight our little corner of the world explodes instantly green! A green that totally envelopes you.

Summer love.

I have loved summer for as long as I can remember. Before the dreaded menopause, I was perpetually cold. A clear through my bones cold. Often, my whole body ached because i was so cold. I could feel the tension all through my body from sitting, standing, or sleeping in an attempt to stay warm. Summer brings warmth that is indescribable and fills me with peace. My body can finally relax. The shedding of layers of clothing is such a freeing feeling. Losing the socks and boots for flip-flops and bare feet is a bit of heaven.

I think summer also has a deeper meaning for me.

School life was hard. My earliest memories of school are feelings of inadequacy, fear, anxiety, lack of understanding, and worry filling my mind. Summer vacation was an escape.

Can you find me in this school picture? Kindergarten 1971-1972

Summer meant freedom.

We played all day and night outside. We played hard. We rode bikes for hours. We made forts in the blackberry bushes. We ran through sprinklers and later swam in our neighbors pool. We swung on rope swings. We ate fresh veggies and berries straight from our backyard garden. We slathered ourselves with baby oil and lazed in our webbed lounge chairs in the sun. We ate lunch on the deck. We chased down ice cream trucks. We flew down the driveway on our skateboards, mini bikes, and so much more.

A teenage summer.

I spent many hours horseback riding. Playing in the creek down the road. Tubing down the river. Late warm nights cruising in town with the windows down. Toilet papering our friends houses. Meeting up at our local McDonalds. Dances, and first loves,

A move to the land of perpetual summer.

I was happy. A boyfriend, a yellow 1972 VW super beetle, a great job, and good friends. A move to Las Vegas meant I was living in a constant summer. And it was glorious.

Marriage and children came.

Some parents cant wait for school to start again. I dreaded the end of summer. I was happiest as a parent in the summer. I loved being home with the kids in the summer. Sprinklers, blow up pools, otter pops, picnic lunches, gardening, berry picking, trips to the river, bikes, walks, windows open letting fresh air in, sleepovers, sleeping outside, the sound of laughter, trips to the beach, camping, fishing, carefree, no homework, no parent-teacher conferences, no bullying, no alarm. It was just pure summer.

I am a grandmother now.

I am an empty nester now. Life can be calmer these days. Most of the pressures and anxieties I often felt are behind me. I am more purposeful in taking time to notice each season, and I’m learning to accept each one for it’s uniqueness.

I used to dread those days that came after the last snow fell and melted away. I often times sank into depression, yearning for summer. I have found myself trying to enjoy what each season has to offer and immerse myself in each one. I find that I can have an equal appreciation for each season. I love the beautiful sights of fall, the quietness of winter, and the buds and blossoms of spring. And I still love the warmth and blue skies that summer brings.