Summer

“In a somer seson when soft was the sonne…” –William Langland

Today, in the middle of July, I sit chilled by the open window behind my chair and think how marvelous this summer, this soft summer of breezy days and long carefree hours. This summer where we watched a pair of doves nest in our trellis amid flourishing jasmine. Each day we passed often under the precarious nest to take our lunch out on the deck or to linger during the cool evenings when dusk meets dark. We watched and waited, not near as patiently as the mother who never left the nest (that we saw) but moved ever so slightly this way or that until at last we spied the downy feathers of two baby birds.

A summer of blue skies and long picnics hastily prepared and slowly consumed before spectacular mountain backdrops. Days filled with long walks in the woods or short jaunts to the park where Rem might fall asleep to the rhythmic rocking of the swing. Afternoons spent lazily beside the pool waiting for the sun’s rays to penetrate deep enough to warrant braving the crisp water where Miren and Lise swim tirelessly with Karlota and Rem runs in the shallow end shouting “I’m swimming! I’m swimming!”

The days that flow endlessly into each other provides such pleasure that patience prevails in long tourist lines for the girls’ first trip down Sliding Rock (and then again for their second) or to traverse that abode of excess that draws people from more modest places to gawk and imagine themselves sleeping here or eating there. The gardens, in full bloom with the brightest of colors and endless varieties of roses, quickly fade the recent maze of rooms and crowds until only nature’s beauty abounds as we marvel at the orchids that line the wall in the greenhouse.

Mornings begin slowly with large cups of coffee and conversations about life in the Basque Country and the Canary Islands that extend beyond the breakfast muffins Miren made and require a second cup of coffee that Lise expertly brewed. Karlota steps easily into our pattern of lazily passing the early parts of the day while Rem whizzes into the room and out as a pirate or a princess. Often precipitated by late nights, Miren’s slow start quickens when asked about the book that forced her eyes open beyond mid-night.

Books lie scattered, temporarily abandoned or too quickly finished with characters still so alive that the readers could not place them back on a shelf among the anonymous titles. Ghost stories and humorous essays are devoured along with classics. I pass books along and read the ones that get passed to me. Karlota easily reads the books the girls pass to her. Rem sits in Grandmama’s rocking chair and pages through his favorite books alone and content in his room for brief spells.

Time passes and no one can remember the day or the date but the black-eyed susans are blooming and the basil boasts enough leaves to make pesto. Miren climbs in bare feet to the top of the tall hemlock at the corner of the yard that our neighbor struggles to keep alive with the others that line and shade her back yard. Lise decides to plant a flowerbed with unmarked seeds she found in a bag once put aside with purpose. Garden tools appear and she begins breaking up the dirt. Later I see Lise and Miren working the soil together and soon they are watering the small patch of dirt that they lined with rocks found around the yard.

We think nothing of committing an afternoon just to stand atop the summit of the highest mountain peak east of the Mississippi River or to thrust our feet into an icy stream beneath a waterfall. Hours slip away as we leisurely locate the sculptures that mark the urban trail along the streets downtown. We burst into Craig’s office in the middle of our quest to say hello (a reminder of how these carefree summer days come to pass). Our wanderings enable us to rediscover how much we enjoy each other’s company and how lovely life at a slower pace can be.

The pulse of activity beats faintly as our minds shift every now and then to the upcoming school year and the busy schedules that will ensue. But for now, I listen to the leaves rustle in the trees amid the unlikely cool, cool breeze at mid-day and I think how splendidly passes this summer season under the soft sun.