WordSisters

Tag: summer

  • Lazy, Crazy, Days of Summer

    So, this is summer. We all began daydreaming about this time of year during the February/March doldrums. Longer days, more time to bike, read in a comfy outdoor chair, walks with friends or family, cookouts, maybe swim, possibly attend a local festival or even a trip to the state fair or a getaway.  Don’t think about bugs, grass cutting, watering the gardens, traffic, crowds, bored kids, very hot days, house maintenance at your place or a relative’s, ants in the kitchen, work that doesn’t diminish or go away, higher food costs or utility bills. Just roll out the lazy days. Really?

    For each of us with plans for a long weekend, there is a scheduler or boss with post it notes from a few of our peers for the same time off and calendars needing additional worker hours. Caregivers are scrambling to fit in dentist appointments, physicals, and eye tests and all required before the last week of August. And don’t forget finding drivers’ ed if there is an appropriate age kid in the house.

    What is it about our easy-going collective summer fantasy? Planted in our rhythms by school calendars built around agricultural and/or weather limitations centuries ago. Perpetuated by advertisers and businesses. Lots of people work their longest hours in warm weather. For them summer means more bucks to stretch through slow times. Or those extra summer jobs pay for the extra summer expenses. 

    What we share in our summer dreams across many parts of the United States are the simple pleasures of walking outside without a coat or gloves, not slipping on ice, seeing neighbors or friends while casually walking, sitting on a public bench sipping a cup of coffee or slushy. There are flowers to admire, fresh vegetables and fruit available that taste better, sunlight more hours instead of porch and garage lights. After staying inside during sunlight-starved months of cold, this is worth the wait. Wasps, bees, flies, mosquitos and ticks: please give us a break.

  • The Season Flies In

    This week climate change, in small letters, has had people’s attention. After days of steadily increasing temperatures,  humidity and Canadian wildflower smoke, a storm blew in with rain. Not enough rain to make up for dry conditions, but far better than none. The rain dragged in a weather front that returned days to cool temps. Kids wore light jackets for their spring field and track events or school picnics. Luckily in the Midwest bugs appeared to delay opening shop even though Memorial Day had passed.

    Lake Michigan adds unique weather games into the seasonal change. Seventy some degrees near Green Bay’s shoreline and ten degrees cooler on the Lake Michigan side. A wardrobe in your car’s trunk is not a bad idea. Kids are paddling around in Lake Michigan’s bay area waters while parents, bundled in long pants with long sleeve shirts, watch. All water surrounding Door County’s coast need to warm before humans should spend more than minutes with wet feet.

    In the Midwest spring turns to summer when bugs challenge enjoyment of outdoor activities. Now small black flies and mosquitos flex their biting powers in the time between real day hours and evening. People wrap bare legs in blankets, slip on long-sleeve tops, bum bug spray from others. Or they retreat to a screen porch or escape indoors. One day bugs were not present, then they fill the air in buzzing fronts of tiny air forces ready to sting humans.  

    Mid-fifties temperatures along with a stiff breeze changing everything again in morning. Sundresses and flip flops disappear. Jeans, sweatshirts and shoes come back. Once red bumps and itchy lumps come home from an after dinner walk and ant hills cover sidewalk cracks, spring is over, and summer’s dominance has begun. Try not to begrudge days slathered with sunscreen and topped with bug spray. It’s what we accept for not grabbing something warm to wear every time stepping outside a home or car. 

  • 80. Feels like 90.

    We were planning to have dinner outside and listen to a musical group. Should be an ideal evening with temps in the very low 80s. Even the mosquitos have called a partial truce. One bad apple in the perfect plan is humidity which is making 80 feel like 90. The second bad apple is a gradual lowering of Canadian wildfire smoke into Wisconsin’s Northern zones.  Iced tea will melt quickly, clothes will stick, and someone will begin coughing or wheezing. 

    The morning was excellent after a rough bunch of storms and rain cleaned out the atmosphere last night. Walking on a nearly empty beach at ten this morning with bright blue sky and sparkling water felt like a summer dream. The toddler with us, spending her first days of walking into very shallow Lake Michigan waters, celebrated with digging in the sand, pouring water on anything, jumping tiny waves with help from adults. Two hours for summer 2023 memories.

    That’s how the whole season has played out—like slurping a slug of pickle brine from your glass of lemonade. Do you dump the drink, try to add something in hopes of a more enjoyable beverage, or accept the situation?

    Or is the pickle brine just an emotional reminder of the true state of the bigger world—global warming and the U.S. state of unrest? Keeping to a summer theme is challenging and heading to dinner out with music in the background, even in sauna-like conditions could provide relief from week’s tensions.

    Then the heavens opened. Rain lashed against windows. Wind whipped flowers and trees. Thunder rumbled over the bay waters. Power went out at the restaurant. So, we ate leftovers at our kitchen table, talking and laughing at what the toddler was trying to say. Temperatures dropped to low 70s as storms disappeared. The gift of a typical summer experience. No pickle brine in the last of the lemonade.