Sights and sounds of summer
T
he mountain, which I can almost reach out and touch, holds in a quietness that's occasionally punctuated by the buzz of a
lawn mower or the tack of a hammer. My neighbors have started the early morning weekend ritual that signals manicured hedges, explosions of color BBQ’s, and renovations. In
my office, I sit for a moment knowing that summer is here in all of her sights, tastes, sounds and glorious fickleness.
Although fleeting, the sights, tastes and sounds of summer are somewhat life affirming. You come to expect it. It’s as if
we come out of hibernation to rejoin the human race and resume our lives. It’s funny - in the winter we barely know or see
our neighbors, but once it heats up, you wave at total strangers over the hedge while you’ve got dirt on your face or someone
from down the street comments on my wild tangle that's made itself a home against the front of the house. Or the chubby seven
year-old, who zooms by during the winter, suddenly stops for a chat on his way through the yard.
Early as it is, the tap, tap of summer renovations come from the next two yards over. I am looking forward to the sound of
the hammer and the buzz of the saw around our place as it reminds me that we're building a future. This is our fixer
upper - our summer project for the next few years. This summer we will be making it more of our own without changing the
character, or the arched doorways and hardwood floors of this 78-year-old house.
Even though it’s barely eight o’clock and only the first really hot weekend, I can feel the expectations that summer
creates. It’s in the familiar buzz of the lawn mower, the accustomed-to tack of the hammer, the not knowing what to expect
from the tangled bush in my front yard and the extra friendliness of ordinary people.
Summer is Shakespeare in the park, open air concerts, a song that becomes the sound track of your life -at least for that
moment- in my case, “Patio Lantern”, eating way too many hot dogs with hot peppers, tire swings in the front yard, sitting
outside with my husband as the sun slips over the edge of the earth with the scent of citronella as you slap and swat at the
bugs and the night envelops you in its starry womb. You sit, sometimes, in silence because it seems fitting, and you let the
moment hold you, knowing that in a few short months, it will be the end of the innocence - yet again.
Copyright 2008 © Dawn Prince. Not to be reprinted without expressed permission.
Back To The Cover
Back to Woman to Woman
