It’s already midafternoon of a lovely July day. Summer expands in all directions and holds us in her heart. I wanted to write early this morning. I had plans for a thoughtful article on slowing down and savoring the summer days ahead.

But first I needed to set the clothes washer going and sit down and read in my Daily Walk Bible. I sipped my green tea while reading.

Then the chickens needed water and something extra from the garden. I grow a lot of chard and kale and endive. Then whatever we don’t eat, the chickens get. And they get the bulk of the greens that grow in my garden. They love those greens.

Next there were raspberries to pick. It is a big patch and takes me about two hours. I needed to get out there before it got hot. I picked and picked as the sun got stronger. Occasionally I moved the hose that was watering the beans. As I worked, I listened to The Personal Memoirs of Ulysses S. Grant. Then I picked peppers, one small zucchini (this is the first year I have had peppers before I get zucchini) some lettuce and, since I might need it for supper, the biggest onion in the row. All the while, my mind was on the victories and defeats of the Civil War. Just as I came inside, Grant had ordered Sherman to get the Confederate Army on the run and “where they go, send your men and follow them to the death.” The Confederates where in a weakened state and he had gotten them cut off from their suppliers. Only the whisper of a breeze or song of birds in this peaceful but my heart heard the sounds of battle and felt many emotions.

By the time I came in from the garden, it was lunch time. The counter was full of produce. While Abby found us some lunch, I washed and put away the vegetables and raspberries. Maybe we’ll have jalepeno poppers for supper alongside some fish Craig caught a few weeks ago. (Except we won’t. He says he’s working late.)

After lunch Abby and I studied together. Earlier this year we took a relationship course. Now we are studying social skills. Our next course is about business. So far we are doing freebies we find online that look interesting. Then we did yoga and wrote in our journals.

I got some blankets in from the line. They were warm from the sun. As I took them to my room, I saw the computer closed on the desk and remembered I had something I wanted to say.

But just then the neighbor man drove on the yard with his tractor and square baler. We didn’t mow all of our five acres this summer. The first half of the summer it grew tall, put on seeds and waved in the wind. I loved it. It was my own little piece of tall grass prairie. Then the neighbor mowed it for us.Next it rained on it twice!! We aren’t seasoned farmers, but we thought the rains stopped after the fourth of July. Sorry, not this year. Anyway, it did eventually dry, and he raked it yesterday and now I was standing at the window and watching him turn the windrows into neat rectangles of straw. It is fascinating! It looks so 1940’s I almost feel like I’m time traveling. (I never lived in the 1940’s but that’s one of the benefits of reading – you can live in any time in the imagination.) I am taking such delight in my miniature farm. And a quick count tells me we have enough bales for the chicken coop for the next five years! A crop is a crop and I’m not complaining.

What I wanted to say is: It’s summertime and I hope you aren’t missing it. I didn’t want to miss the chance to remind you to enjoy your day, your summer day, that will never come again. Whether you do something special, a sweet surprise comes your way, or the day is usual routine, (I think I’ve had all in one day) take the time to notice and be thankful. Take the time to savor the raspberries, the smell of mowed grass, the heat, the blue sky. Summer comes but once a year.

They could not be forgotten, she thought, because now is now. It can never be a long time ago.

Laura Ingalls Wilder, last lines in Little House in the Big Woods

8 Ways to Make the Most of Summer

• Pay attention. I remember the feeling of the summer my boys were 12 and 13. We worked outside a lot and they were so helpful in moving wheelbarrow loads of dirt or rocks, digging, mowing and using power tools. Every day seemed special because I knew by the next summer one of them would be out of school, probably have a part time job and they wouldn’t be content to work with mom so much. I felt such a heightened awareness of enjoying being with them. Something about your season is being done for the last time. Pay attention.
• Take note of simple pleasures. Make some lemon bars and put raspberries on top. Really feel the sun. Work hard and then really feel the relief to fall into bed, tired but satisfied. See how blue the sky is; how white the clouds. Write a list of the things you get to enjoy.
• Go at the dog’s pace (or a child’s). My son’s dog was ‘fixed’ last week and I have been watching over her recovery. She loves all the attention but needs to be entertained, and walked carefully. I have so enjoyed her attitude toward life. Enjoy being with your children too. When I look back to when my children were small, I wish I’d relaxed and enjoyed them. My feelings about this is not enough to be a regret; we had many fun times. It’s just a little disappointment in myself. Why worry? Or go perfectionist? Or try to do too much? Just enjoy your people.
• Cook without a cookbook. What would you eat if you didn’t have a single cookbook. Pretend for a day or a week that you don’t. You could grill, saute, fry, or instant pot some meat. What’s growing in the garden? Fix a few vegetables. Make a salad. Make pizza or stir fry or hamburgers or fry an egg. You can make tacos without a cookbook. Relish in your skill to feed your family.
• Stay off the phone in the morning. It’s amazing how much time and attention a phone can suck up. You don’t want to miss a minute of this precious summer, do you?
• Let people, even yourself, be who they are. I remember feeling some apprehension before an event – maybe it was around one of my boys’ weddings. I didn’t feel polished, or something. Then I had the thought – they all know me! They’re not going to be surprised by anything I say, or do, or wear. Relief! I could be myself. Give others that permission too. They are who they are, they are doing their best, and love them for it.
• Be content with circumstances. Three years into a five-year project? It’s ok. Have to wear this dress to church again? Fine with me. Somebody toured the garden when it wasn’t weeded? That’s real life. Husband says he’s working late or unexpectedly shows up for lunch? Take it in stride. By the end of summer, none of it will matter. But you will only be sorry for getting in a wad.
• Read a book. Or listen. Gardening is enjoyable in it’s own right but when you pair it with a looong audio book, the enjoyment doubles. (This year I am listening to Personal Memoirs of Ulysses S. Grant, as I mentioned above. Last year I listened to Lord of the Rings and the year before it was A Gentleman in Moscow. I’m thinking of listening to The Count of Monte Cristo next. 47 hours! Interesting fact: The longest book on Audible is the King James Bible, 72 hours.) I would never get through a paper copy of any of those books, but attaching it to something I do every day anyway (garden) I slowly make it through. Most of the books I read in the summer are short and light. Sometimes there’s so many other things to do that a short book is more suitable. But this is one way it works for me to read long books. Try it. Maybe you’ll like it too.
• Feel the connection. Summertime has a few ghosts that follow me. The 49ers look on when I mix the sourdough. Early settlers’ wives follow me through the herb garden. My grandma stands by the stove as I fill the canner, the pioneer camps near me at Lake Mary Ronan, Laura Ingalls Wilder walks through the tall grass with me, a farmer from the 1930’s gazes at the thunderheads over my shoulder. Indians scan the horizon with me at sunset. Even myself, as a little girl, is hidden alongside me in the middle of the raspberry brambles. Life is a circle, not a line, and the yearnings of human hearts never change. The connection is everywhere, at the edge of our vision.

Bonus: Read A Poem Every Day.

The Way Through the Woods

They shut the road through the woods
Seventy years ago.
Weather and rain have undone it again,
And now you would never know
There was once a road through the woods
Before they planted the trees.
It is underneath the coppice and heath
And the thin anemones.
Only the keeper sees
That, where the ring-dove broods,
And the badgers roll at ease,
There was once a road through the trees.

Yet, if you enter the woods
Of a summer evening late,
When the night-air cools on the trout-ringed pools
Where the otter whistles his mate,
(They fear not man in the woods,
Because they see so few.)
You will hear the beat of a horse's feet,
And the swish of a skirt in the dew,
Steadily cantering through
The misty solitudes,
As though they perfectly knew
The old lost road through the woods...
But there is no road through the woods.

Rudyard Kipling (1865-1936)

And now, I must go clean the bathroom and sweep the kitchen and put the clean sheets on my bed. I hope you have a lovely summer day.

-Liz

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