Remember when you were young and the summer days seemed to stretch on endlessly without a care? My only concern was whether Mom would let me have watermelon for breakfast and if she would holler at me for wearing those old, worn cut off blue jean shorts for 3 days in a row. I spent many a summer day tubing down the Blanco River in Wimberley, Texas and many a summer night kicking up my heels at the street dances held in the town square. Fond memories that make me flinch when I realize that 30 years have passed. Ouch!
Somehow, somewhere, the summers seemed to morph into something unrecognizable. They no longer lasted forever and everytime I turn around now, there are piles of dirty dishes that call for attention. I'm sure there were piles of dishes during those years as well, but I don't remember them. Memory is a funny thing.
The once warm sun of my teen summers seemed to have been replaced by oppressive heat. I now tend to migrate into the coolness of the house when the mercury rises and take refuge under the whirring blades of the ceiling fan. If I need to get things done, I had better get them done before 1 pm because after that, all motivation evaporates into thin air as if it never existed.
I still love being outdoors, but now you will find me walking the dirt road at 5:30 in the morning. That NEVER would have been the case in the summers of my youth. Sleeping in was another summer extravagence. Now I seem to have acquired this disturbing trait known as a guilty conscience. Must get up before the sun does in order to get all the outside chores tended to before the heat rises above the century mark. Yes, I know it's just a sign of getting old, but let's just keep that to ourselves.
Yesterday DD and I took a short drive down the dirt road in search of a particular photography subject. Her rascal of a dog, Tucker, shows short bursts of exhuberane on occasion and coming along for a ride is one such event. I let DD drive and I sat back to enjoy the wind blowing through my hair. I couldn't help but notice Tucker. He was standing on the arm rest with his head stuck out the window, like dogs are wont to do. He had this absolute look of sheer joy on his face as his ears flapped in the breeze. Dogs know how to enjoy summer and it was at that moment that I realized I should take a hint from the Beagle.
No, you will not see me with my head hanging out the window, tongue wagging, and ears flapping, but I have discovered that summer is still there for the taking. It's all in your perception and I only have to look past the pots and pans and over the head of a Beagle to find it.