Last summer was extra disappointing — and it was also magnificent.
Summer has never been my favorite season other than the time off from school that I enjoyed as a student. By midsummer, I get a bit grouchy about how hot it is — despite my love of nature. The pandemic forced me outdoors throughout the summer months last year because all the typical hot-day summer things I would have done were not available. There was no cooling off in an overly chilled movie theater. No boat cruises on the river or ocean. There were no dinners around my dining room table with extended family. No evening walks on the boardwalk or late-night chats on the patio. Even my occasional desperate trip into the walk-in refrigerator at Costco was not something I did willingly last summer.
The circumstances pushed me well out of my comfort zone. I learned I can take my vehicle down the sand covered roads to remote places in the Pine Barrens of Southern New Jersey. Instead of leading at camp, I gave a tour of my gardens at home via video recording for campers who were also stuck home. In place of my annual trip up to Vermont to spend time in the woods camping, I tried a place closer to home — and was washed out during my first night there! I learned to head out early before the sweltering heat of midday. I began calling my patio “my summer house” and tried working from there during the day. I learned water balloon fights and Slip ‘N Slides are still fun. I discovered that snow cones in the driveway can be just as fun as a large-scale birthday party for my kid. I found I am a decent gardener when I take the time to put in the work. I enjoyed delivering flowers from my garden to colleagues’ porches.
Last year taught me to appreciate so many things about summer that I could not before. It took being cooped up in the house for the end of the winter and all of spring for me to embrace the outdoors in the summer. When my only choice was to head outside, it opened my eyes and heart to a new way of being. I wrote previously about how my prayer life has shifted to noticing more of my surroundings with wonder. Getting outdoors (even in the heat) played a huge part in that.
This summer I am looking forward to so many things (I am looking at you, Costco walk-in fridge). Seriously though, I have already spent a warm spring evening on my patio with my sister. How I savored those hours that once were a given, but now are sacred. I cannot wait to see how many people I can welcome to the patio in small groups this summer now once many are vaccinated. I am hopeful I will make it up to Vermont this year. I look forward to warm sea breezes tying my hair in knots as I walk the boardwalk on a random weeknight. I have the theater release date of “In the Heights” on my calendar. I imagine it will not be long before I am ushering my daughter, nieces and nephews dripping wet into the house to seek shelter from a thunderstorm. Our first “Aunt Beck Sleepover” is on the calendar after 14 long months. I am eager to continue the Friday morning mother-daughter breakfast picnic in remote wooded places with my favorite nearly 12-year-old sojourner. I already have a good bit of my garden started and I find myself looking forward to the work it will bring my way. I suppose I may cut flowers again and deliver them quietly to front porches. I am still constantly marveling at the plants that have come back this spring. My hummingbird friend is back; we spent many evenings on the front porch together last summer, with a few of her companions.
In every one of these moments there is a sacredness, a pause, a breath of Sabbath renewal. I eagerly look forward to combining my newfound practices of a quiet summer at home with those much longed for stalwart experiences.
