The Suitcase Lady

Zenith

June 15, 2010, 10:08 pm

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We northerners will come to the end of the sky road next Monday, June 21. The sun will have reached a certain telephone pole I see  from my kitchen window. From that point, it’s all downhill to the winter solstice.

The sunny news is that our star’s retreat goes in baby steps. I can handle one minute less of sun each day. It is decidedly best not to think of Shakespeare’s lines from Macbeth…

Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day
To the last syllable of recorded time…

No, the proper course of action is to focus on getting the most out of each precious summer day. Each one of us defines “most” differently.  In our case,  eating every possible meal out of doors is high on the list as is taking daily beach walks. Getting out on the water is paramount as well. We are aiming for lots of canoe time and hope that most of it is spent in the boat. Our canoeing skills are not finely honed.

Every summer should also include some serious sand castle building. In addition, we are considering branching out into large beach sculpture . On a recent beach walk, we chanced on a wonderful assemblage constructed by an unknown beachcomber.  The temporal nature of this art form  appeals to us, and we are eager  to erect a fleeting landmark of our own.

Time will be made for summer indulgences such as fireworks, ice cream, blueberries, sunset watching, art fairs, road trips and Riesling. Summer is a siren, and we are not about to resist her call.

What are your summer joys?

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3 Comments for this entry

  • john tooley

    Outdoor music….red wine by star light…forgetting what I was trying to remember…

  • eve robillard

    Mary–Summer is a siren. I’m going to remember that.
    Riesling, eh? Didn’t know that was your wine of choice. You’re making me thirsty. friday-ishly, eve

  • Denise Thornton

    My friend and colleague Eve directed me to your site.
    Greetings.
    All human landmarks are fleeting, aren’t they?
    We do seem to have the urge to make our mark.
    The repair of a concrete barn floor left us with a pile of concrete rubble by our lane, which seemed like an eyesore to me all winter.
    This spring my husband and I labored on it to stack it more purposefully, and now I view it more as sculpture.