The Heart of Summer - July 2013

“Miserable!” replied Aaron emphatically,  as I followed him into his office one glorious summer afternoon. But by now I was used to our annual ritual: as the summer finally arrived with her beautiful hot and sunny days, Aaron would bemoan the miserable weather and his resulting miserable self. I would playfully scold him for “dissing” my favorite season, and insinuate that maybe he not only resembled Santa but might in fact BE Santa, since he seemed happiest when the wind howled and the snow blew across a frozen February wasteland. Generally we would end up with either Aaron dolefully counting on his fingers the months until winter returned, or me trying to cheer him up with a weak "I heard that it might be in the 70’s and rainy next week".  All of this was done with a good bit of posturing and good humor, for although Aaron really was miserable in the heat, he was also wise enough to know to be grateful for every day, hot or not.

When I mentioned in last month’s blog that we each have our preferences for the months and seasons I was thinking of  Aaron, the first of a few folks I have met in my life who did not ache for the ease and possibility of the long summer days. According to www.accuweather.com, 26 days in July hit at least 80 degrees F, and 12 of those days were above 90 degrees. No place for Santa or even someone who resembled Santa. Aaron’s antipathy towards the heat of  July 2013 would only have been matched by his exuberance over the ridiculous snowfall and cold of February 2013. And really, to be honest with you (though mock pride would prevent me from ever admitting this to Aaron), July 2013 was a little too hot even for me.  Sometimes on the hottest days it felt as if I was slowly floating around the pond, conserving movement, carried along by updrafts from the hot asphalt on the causeway like one of the nearly motionless turkey vultures soaring above. I saw many new faces in my morning walks, as regular walkers moved to an earlier shift to escape the worst of the day's heat. Even so I think we all looked like glistening and slightly wilted ghosts as we made our way through the thick air. The wisest of the pond's visitors perhaps took to the water, getting a whiff of the coolness on the long fetch from the Scalley Dam to Willow Island.

It seemed to me that the pond’s bird and animal life lay low in July as well. The normally cosmopolitan causeway was eerily silent on the hottest days. Oftentimes I would stroll the pond and not even take my camera out, as the birds seemed to be elsewhere, perhaps wisely shading themselves under the nearly spent summer rose bushes, or hiding in the cool grasses which had sprung up so high along the Lagoon. Of course while the fauna made itself scarce, the flora continued its silent summer explosion.The heat, rain and humidity encouraged a lush green carpet in  the pine grove near Lion's Park, mushrooms sprung up along the trails down back, Queen Ann's Lace sparkled in the morning light and the chicory bloomed, filling in the spaces left by fading early summer flowers.



  











Of course every flower has its season to bloom, and every plant and animal has its favorite habitat. And although houses and clothes enable us humans to survive pretty much anywhere, each of us I think has a natural inclination. I am like a hosta, seemingly dead in the ground until spring, then leaping up with great gusto, blooming in the heart of the summer, and then disappearing into to the ground again at the first sign of frost! Or maybe a ruby-throated hummingbird, fueled by the flowers of the New England summer, but fleeing to the tropics (I wish!) before September's end. And Aaron? Well maybe he would be a lichen in the shadow of a glacier, or more likely a magnificient polar bear, taking a liesurely swim in the icy Arctic Ocean. It's kind of fun to think about - I wonder what plant or animal fits your inclination. 

OK, now for the bird report. As I said, I think our avian friends were laying rather low this month, but a few decided to pose now and then. The stately heron competed with human anglers for prime fishing spots, and occasionally graced the Foley Beach area in the early morning. The impossibly iridescent grackle, the now fully yellow goldfinch, and the shy common flicker were all about. One day a surprisingly curious male cardinal eyed me from the pine grove way down back. Of course that didn’t last long, but I managed to snap a shot or 2 before he remembered that Mrs. Cardinal is generally the bold one in the duo. And I am glad to report that our resident cygnet still survives as of the end of July, looking more and more like his proud parents every day. Finally, on a hot and sultry morning a Great Horned Owl appeared in a tree near the far end of the causeway. I hadn't seen an owl in several months here, and usually see them more during the winter. But there he was, conveniently posed for a silhouette, for the most part ignoring the brave little birds that swooped at him.





 

 
One day, not long before our time together ended, Aaron sat down at the piano and declared that he had finally discovered the thing that would make the summer bearable. Aaron was known for his insights and my ears perked up in anticipation of yet another pearl of wisdom. After a suitably dramatic pause, he announced that the antidote to his summer agony, the cure for his summer doldrums was….Watermelon. Not daily uninterrupted playing of Hanon #1-60. Not the teachings of the Dali Lama. Not an hour of meditation a day. Watermelon. Aaron decided that to survive the summer he needed to find something suitably wonderful to focus on in the face of those [his adjectives here] miserable, hot, stifling, unbearable days.  Surprising to me as it was, Aaron labored long and hard to think of 'something summer' that he could choose to love sufficiently to create a potent balm/antidote to his dismay.  In the hottest days when he was feeling glum he would focus on watermelon and maybe even indulge in some and be glad for it! He then went on to pointedly suggest that perhaps I too should use this method to make the months of that [my adjectives here] frozen, desolate, dark, inconvenient, nose reddening, finger numbing season at the other end of the calendar just a little bit more bearable. I could not imagine anything but promised I would try, as strange non-musical homework assignments like this in the past had brought me many rewards (more on that in another entry). Of course I could add many many things to my dear friend's list of summer blessings: the fledgling robin, the first summer zucchini, paddling to Willow Island on a sleeping pond, the sultry summer sunsets from Foley Beach. But Aaron showed me that  each of us has to find our own good thing,  and each of us has to take advantage of that good thing - be it  watermelon or paddling or snowshoeing or whatever it is - so we don't feel cheated when the season ends. Until next time, hoping you can find, focus on and enjoy something that makes you happy, in every season of the year.  :)