"Our fear of
death is like our fear that summer will be short, but when we have had our
swing of pleasure, our fill of fruit, and our swelter of heat, we say we
have had our day." - Ralph
Waldo Emerson
Some
people live for their Christmas and Thanksgiving traditions, I suppose. I live
for the year round ones. I feared (I always do) that this summer was too short,
just about as much as I always fear the winter is too long. Humans. Are we ever
pleased?
Always
a planner, I had lists of new things to do this summer and I left room for the
ordinary and routine as well. The hand that was dealt gave us both but not in
the quantity we would have liked (again: just being human and expecting), I suppose: not enough
newness and not enough oldness, in the end. Maybe just as much as our time and
tired bodies could handle.
Even
the mainstays take a new shape or form every year, depending on what changes
happen in the local landscape, or how old and decrepit I am becoming to be able
to handle them (differently) every year.
Other
than getting away to Wyoming and to Snowbird for two weekends, we spent the
summer pretty much around our area, just taking in the smells, tastes and
trails of the mountains and cities close by. I remember when, living in the
South East, my one and only dream was to travel to The Rockies and explore. The
time and cash were always limited and I never got to do it when living there.
Now, that dream is my backyard, and I cannot ever stop being grateful for
everything my surrounds offer.
Every year, I am more and more amazed, surprised, thankful for everything I get
to do around here. The “same” yearly things are not really the same – every sunset
has different colors in it, and every rainbow a different shape. And every
year, my eyes get older, and perceive new shades or stop perceiving the old
ones – not sure. All the summer foods taste different every year, depending on
how much or how little rain we got that season.
The
aspen trees and pines are eternal in their beauty. The rocks are still towering
and somber, protecting us, as good soldiers do, from winds, and tougher
weather. But the air smells different and the wind feels different on our
skins, with every season. I didn’t miss the desert fires this year, truthfully!
There
are some things that will be this year’s alone: this will be the year of lazy
afternoons of canceled plans, and not-too-hot weather, but hot enough to call
it “summer”. It was the first year (after 4 years of living here), when we
actually had grass in the backyard. Well, weeds, mostly – but the year we had “green”.
The unusual year of a poor tomato crop, but an
equally unusual time of a huge herb and onions crop. Even peppers are better
this year. The year of fresh Alaskan salmon grilled in the Payson park – I can
still smell it! The year of discovering the peace and serenity of Payson Lakes,
and the year we conquered part of the Timpanogos mountain. This will be the
summer of my first rodeo, and of my first visit to a Mormon temple.
If this
summer taught me one thing, it is, just like the song says: “Summertime, and the livin’ is easy”.
Really.
Just step outside your door. There is always a trail waiting, a piece of skin
left un-tanned, a tomato stand peeking
around the corner, a rose bush needed to be trimmed, a fruity drink waiting to
be sipped, a sunset waiting to be watched…
There
will also be lots of things we left undone on our summer list. But those are
just cocooned possibilities for a later date. No regrets. Just our lives, in
the future.
Tired and sighing, the sun is retiring for
the season. The sunsets will be gentler and paler from here out, more shy, in
the shrinking temperatures of the fall and then winter.
Click on the picture to see a brief journey,
in pictures, of our 2014 summertime.
