I’ve developed a slightly grudging appreciation for winter over the years, even though the lights go out too early. Skiing, especially as a family, changed my perception of snow. Have always enjoyed the colors and crispness of fall. Spring never knows exactly what it wants to be, rain and mud, afternoon thunderstorms and indecision - coat, or no coat? Raincoat? But then there’s that first unexpectedly warm and sunny Saturday that feels like a gift, and the promise of what’s to come.
And now, at least unofficially, it’s here. Summer. That unique and special time when everything feels lighter and easier. Heavy clothes are stored away, work (generally speaking) calms down and the biggest challenge becomes scheduling meetings and calls around the haphazard availability of people who are off somewhere, family vacations, feet walking on sand or in some special place.
The kids are around, homework nagging and after-school shuttling mercifully suspended. The definition of a day expands, or seems to, and the soundtrack includes the calming hiss of sprinklers and hum of pool filters. Long drives and lazy afternoons that turn into spontaneous BBQs and wine with friends. Shorts are not only permissible, they’re assumed. Rabbits, chipmunks and colorful flowers appear, disappear and reappear. Even the morning paper at the end of the walk seems to stare back invitingly, unlike January’s “come and get me, if you dare, through the cold and snow” taunt.
It’s here again.
The lighter time.
