Ah, beautiful summer. Lemonade, campfires, county fairs, fresh veggies, fishing, picnics, soccer, fireworks, thunderstorms (just for you, Matthew) and hiking. The list drifts on… while winter clutches the mountains and meadows in a polar embrace and the wind claws at the creaking conifers outside . . . to use theatrical language. J
Okay. The weather was undeniably that dreadful back in January, and we held our breaths, crossed our fingers, and hoped for milder days come March 20th, or whatever calendar date it was that spring technically began. Now it’s April, and lo and behold, two and a half feet of snow still hide the ground
and we haven’t spotted so much as a robin yet. Correction—when I scratched this down in the draft folder, we hadn’t seen a robin yet. This morning a plump and exuberant flock of North-returning robins visited our yard, apparently undisturbed by all the “white stuff” hiding all of the earthworms.But daffodils and pussy willows? Bare ground? I wish. Reckon that’s the north country for y’all. J
To pamper our cravings for sunscreen and flip flops, we tried to think of everything we love the most about our favorite season. I guess, given that we live in the far north, our favorite season should be winter, but hey, we can’t help what we can’t help. J Oh, that was hard. So many to choose from. We’ve all come down with a critically dangerous case of cabin fever this week, and naming off the delights we’re anticipating come June, July, and August, eases the symptoms of the disease.
Here’s what we came up with:
* Bare feet. Ah, delicious the thought! Shoes (especially snow boots) are feeling more and more cumbersome these days, and the callouses on our feet are becoming dangerously soft, due to prolonged protection from rocks, sticks, and the like.
* The smell of freshly cut hay. If you’ve never smelled it before, I recommend that you take a drive out to some nice dairy farm on an afternoon in June and take a deep breath. I promise that, unless you’re allergic to hay, you’ll be hooked for life.
P.S. If you happen to smell a little manure as well, it won’t kill you.
* Volleyball. Although competition waxes brutally aggressive after three or four serves, we try to survive a game or two every night, despite ferocious mosquitos and neglected gardens.
* Peaches. Oh. Paroxysms of ecstasy accompany the thought. There is nothing in the world that tastes quite like a fresh ripe peach—not too hard, not too soft, just . . . well, “just right”. Don’t you were you were biting into one right now?
* Playing hide-and-seek in the cornfield behind our house. Okay, I don’t do it as much as I did when I was younger, but it’s still fun to watch the littles do it. What kid wouldn’t love playing hide-and-seek in a twelve-acre field of seven-foot-tall corn? Especially at dusk?
P.S. The kiddos in our family are . . . a little different, shall we say. They still do outdated and boring stuff like that for fun instead of texting and playing Wii.
* Northwood lakes. That sentence deserves to be typed in caps. Hiking around them, canoeing in them, fishing in them, swimming in them until your fingertips resemble colorless raisins, and just sitting in front of them (wearing gallons of mosquito spray) admiring the reflection in the water.
And . . . I could go on forever and waste hours of valuable time, but I will conclude the list at that and go find out if it has stopped snowing yet. . .
Southern folks, if you happen to stumble upon these thoughts: Be thankful for warm temperatures and sunny skies. We fight a battle with covetousness when we think of them.
And, a word with my fellow Northerners: don’t lose hope, keep your chins up, and exercise patience. Good things come to those who wait. J