It's Summer

It's summer... I live in Ohio now, but until 1999, I was in Florida for 17 years. Summer there was nothing to write about, as far as I was concerned. Oppressive heat, water restrictions, fire ants, sunburn, and humidity that wrecked havoc with hairstyles and makeup. My main impression of Florida in the summer was getting that first shock -- God it's hot! -- when exiting an over-air-conditioned movie theater. But, now summer means something different...

In Ohio now summer is not a thing to fear. Yes, there are some hot days, but the end is always in sight and my big front porch offers enough relief. There's just enough heat to make summer worthwhile but not discouraging.

School's out now. I know this not because I have children at home. That circle game of educational calendars ended in 2001. No, the elementary age children next store sit in the backyard and sing group songs, clapping their hands in time. The junior high kids on the opposite side of the street spent a good portion of today imitating squeaking tires to the consternation of folks pulling out of the four-way stop. This continued for quite a while and drove my dog crazy as this human boy-child made the sound of a dog suffering serious injury.

On the third side of my house is the garage band teenagers who played dodgeball at midnight. They don't have jobs for the summer, and while at first I felt badly for them, I've decided they ought to enjoy freetime while they have it, life will change for them soon enough.

Summer's here and I haven't yet learned how to make mint juleps, or even tasted one. But, yesterday we had a whopper of a thunderstorm and it was great fun. I took the little dogs with me onto the wicker chair on the front porch and we watched as rain pelted (yes, that's exactly what it did) the roof, shook up all the trees, put my hanging plants at a 45 degree angle, and caused a young woman to laugh with excitement as she hurried to roll up the window of her rusty car, but not quite all the way -- she didn't have air conditioning.

The thunder was so loud I could feel it through the red planks of the porch floor. I watched the 100-or-so-year-old tree sway 10 feet from me and hoped that it would hold out. It was a great storm!

Summer's here... plants completely forgotten have propelled themselves out of the ground as if to say, "I told you I'd come back!" And, like every year I stare at the new growth trying to remember what is best defined as perennial and what as weed... what I lack in knowledge, I make up for in enthusiasm.

It's summer... green, lush, wet, hot, loud ... like a woman who loves life and loves herself, summer runs laughing to those eager to take off their shoes.