Sierra V. Fedorko

I moved the bright, blue melemine bowl filled with strawberries from sink to counter. In this simple moment I felt myself really falling in love with summer. I never knew I’d be so enchanted with what has often been my least-favorite season. But whether I’m filling a basket with cut flowers from the garden or poolside with my kids on a Sunday afternoon (and by poolside I mean I’m next to a cheap blue plastic pool on a tilt in the hillside garden, heehee), or simply prepping strawberries for a summery treat, I’ve found myself really falling for this sticky, hot, happy season.

I watch my son walking up the garden stones, munching on a snow pea, and telling me something, and I’m bursting with love for this little boy who was born in summer almost three years ago now, and he may be the culprit for my slow and steady love for summer. But I think the garden has something to do with my newfound love for summer, too. It is so heavy with life this time of year. How could I not enjoy the abundance, the solstice, the long light into the evening, the smell of earth damp by water hose, the sunflowers beginning to bloom, stepping on the rough, warm stones in the garden…

And I never thought I’d be able to say this, but…

I love summer. I really do.

Between the bustle of camp life which holds its own charm and the slow rhythms we cultivate at home, this season takes on its own feeling of light-hearted cheer. Time moves in one long, good day rather than blustering by in calendar days and months. It’s as though the New Year has finally decided to stretch out in the sun awhile before rushing us to the holidays again. And even though summer has become one long, good day, it’s still somehow a whirlwind in its own way. July! How is it July! But so it is, and I’m soaking it up.

I have written about time, life, and aging in a more somber way, and that stands true. But I want to be clear that time is also happy. It also feels like summer. And the life which feels heavy can be such because the roses have bloomed all at once, the fruit is ripe and ready to be enjoyed, and the garden is swathed in sun and in paint-swatches of flowers. And that feels scary. So much goodness, so much life…how to hold it!? Can we?

But we are safe to enjoy the light and life of summer, both literal and figurative. God is with us! I’m glad I’m falling for summer. I can hold the bright, blue strawberry-filled melamine bowl, every last blessing, and all God’s good gifts with open hands and a steady heart rate. I am that safe.

And you are, too.

Happy (literal & figurative) Summer.

P.s. – perhaps if this post was a poem it would read like this.

(from my new book, Swan Song of a Scarecrow)

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