#lastlongweekend

Another summer has come and gone. The sun was big and the rain was warm. The fields were alive with every colour that swirled together into one large impressionist painting through wind’s touch. 

We walked through it and basked under it. All the while, we absorbed summer’s clarity. 

We marked its beginning when the sun stood still and reached its highest point in the sky; the summer solstice. It was the longest day of the year and with floral garlands, we celebrated growth and light.  

On those hot summer days, children played and imagined until the sun went down. Young hearts dreamed and old hands in tender grasp held tight their memories of summers past.  

Today, on this last long weekend, the season is playing its finale and I notice all. Do we pay more attention knowing that summer’s life is going into a deep sleep?

Those lacy weeds and field flowers that danced in the wind and filled our vases are just a bit frail these days. They are still beautiful. Softer and full of quiet wisdom, they teach us to look closer and see their intricate makings. Delicate weaves and grass that has gone to seed now swirl to the wind and with wistful strokes, the vibrant paintings of summer’s beginning twinge nostalgia.  

Strong light dapples a flourish of ivy but the shadows are deeper at season’s end. The scene is enriching and it teaches us to appreciate the nuances of one colour that turn into many.

Summer rain. Its sweet smell is difficult to put into words. Sometimes heady with lilac and sometimes just a barely-there note of jasmine can fill our senses. Summer’s fragrant liquid is always intoxicating. It performs through all things it touches.

Tiny reflective pools hang off long blades like pearly beads. They disperse with purpose over a broad green leaf, outlining simple contours and magnifying its fine veins. The smallest details can help us see pattern, rhythm, and proportion with such clarity.

Summer skies. They fill our hearts with dreams and wonder. The clouds spread across the horizon and shift in shape to reveal great stories when we unlock our child’s imagination. Nothing can stir the creative soul more powerfully.

On this last long weekend, twilight settles into long stratus wisps above the dark tree line and reflects an end-of-summer veil into the lake like a watery Missoni print.

Despite all its intensity, summer is as ethereal as the wispy clouds that fade in and out on a clear day and as magical as the fireflies that appear like playful little stars on a clear night. Radiant and memorable, we can attempt to catch them in jars or press the field flowers into books but we all know that summer teaches us to enjoy its wonders as they occur.