“The worst summer ever.”
This was the topic one day last week in the lunchroom at work. It has rained nearly every day for what seems like forever. (I’m sorry to anyone in California reading this, we would gladly send you a couple of our rain storms if we only could.) According to our local weather geeks, this has been the least sunny June for years, probably decades if I could only remember the specific statistic.
Last June actually had more rainfall, but who can remember the difference of a few small fractions of an inch for a whole year?
If I were a Supreme Court Justice, I would have had to write the dissenting opinion on the state of this summer. Since I have this blog outlet, I am writing the dissent. (As a legal geek, I am devouring all the press about the decisions that are being handed down.)
It helps that, in my opinion, yesterday was the perfect summer day. The temperature was in the mid-70s, there was sun all day, and a light breeze. Ah, bliss. Warm enough for capris and sandals, not too warm to do some weeding in the middle of the afternoon. It would have been the perfect day to have a leisurely lunch on the patio at the restaurant were my son works, but they were light on customers so he actually got to leave work a bit early to enjoy the afternoon.
We seem to focus in on the perfect summer day, it doesn’t seem to be as important in winter, spring or fall. Summer is our ideal, the elusive perfect concoction of nice weather and enjoyable activities.
A tiger lily bloom starting its only day of existence
But perfect for one person is too something for someone else. And if every day were at or near perfection, quite soon we would cease to notice at all. It is the scarcity of the perfect summer day that is part of what makes it perfect.
Sometimes we miss these wonderful weather moments due to obligations, like work – where as an office worker I am insulated from nature by conditioned air and fluorescent lighting, my back to the window. Sometimes we can enjoy them peripherally, such as with open windows while we complete a long undone task. (I finally finished rehanging the pictures in my living room yesterday, only 4 years after painting the room.)
Sometimes we miss them simply through being oblivious. The sameness of our routine – get up, go to work, check things off the to-do list, repeat – makes us forget to note the state of nature around us.
The green, growing things are thriving in our cooler, rainy weather pattern. If we take the time to note the way that they are thriving, it might bring a smile.
Summer is fleeting. It seemed limitless as a child, and in the glow of memory those recalled days are strung out, one more perfect than the next. Perfect summer days as an adult take more effort, but sometimes it is just the effort to push aside all the obligations and see the trees in the forest.
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