Summer is full of a variety of images to me. I live in an area with four distinct seasons and, though summer is never long enough, I still enjoy the seasonal changes. One thing that never changes is the joy-filled memories that thoughts of summer bring.
Things and images I associate with summer: plums, sweet corn, water, laughter, firelight, shimmering heat, just to name a few. The sweet corn and plums may seem an obvious choice. As a child I spent lots of time outside swimming during the summer. Lakes, pools, streams, the ocean comprised my swim choices. Almost always they were accompanied by a picnic lunch. Summer picnic lunches always included plums. Portable, small, and easy to eat, these gems were refreshing on a hot summer afternoon. I grin inwardly when I eat them.
Sweet corn may become its own topic among consumers. I was never a fussy corn eater. If it was fresh from the farm stand, it didn’t matter what variety it was. Our next door neighbor always called my mother when there were fresh peas to be shucked or ears of corn to be husked. I enjoyed helping and would skip next door to get to work. There was always plenty for me to take home for our supper.
Sweet summer laughter never gets old. We few neighborhood kids gathered in the twilight, after dinner, to play. Spirited games of kick the can, Simon says, variations of tag, were played with abandon. Of course those were the days when dogs ran loose and weren’t picked up after. One sultry evening found me racing to hide, during hide and seek, when my heel caught the edge of a pile of dog poo. I did a fast sit and was further humiliated when I realized I was wearing my favorite white shorts.
When I was fourteen or fifteen, a nice pool complex opened in our town. It gave us the opportunity to swim outdoors instead of in one of the school pools. There was an Olympic-sized pool, a smaller diving pool, snack bar, locker rooms, etc. Since my mom usually worked summers to supplement her teaching salary, I needed to ride my bike to get there. That wasn’t a big deal as the park was less than two miles away.
Part of that ride necessitated me bicycling on a highway. It was always a little nerve-wracking to do so and seemed like a long stretch. In reality it was a distance of about a half mile. It always seemed a lonely piece of road, the surrounding scenery was stark with crunchy, overgrown summer weeds. Either shoulder of the road was littered with broken glass, discarded sneakers, flattened soda cans, the usual roadside detritus.
In the near distance the promise of fun sparkled amongst the haze of the heat. On the ride home the heat rose in waves from the pavement, the day’s brilliance reduced to exhaustion. The return trip became a chore though I enjoyed whatever sort of breeze was kicked up by the ride.
Summer music tends to employ a happy vibe. The Beach Boys and Chicago come to mind. “Good Vibrations,” “California Girls,” and “Saturday in the Park” often ruled the airwaves. These mixed with “It’s Too Late,” “The Morning After,” “The Letter,” “O-o-h Child,” “Mama Told Me Not to Come,” “Spill the Wine,” “Brandy (you’re a fine girl),” and oodles of others. These are just a few memories of summers past.
“Summer breeze makes me feel fine/Blowin’ through the jasmine in my mind.” Seals & Crofts
The shimmer of heat.
Stories Are For Eternity 