Scented geranium, aka bowl o’ sunshine

The summer visitors have arrived. They show up all of a sudden, in an array of styles and colors that practically scream “Summer is here!” One day the landscape comprises a crowd dressed in varying hues of green, and the next—well, see for yourself.

Columbine

 Peony

False Indigo

Clematis

My “Little Miss Kim” lilac arrives in a burst of grapey color and then immediately fades to white, leaving behind a trail of sweet perfume that fills the yard for days.

Little Miss Kim

Here in eastern Massachusetts, the transformation from late spring to early summer is a visually joyous one. The air feels both lighter and fresher: a soft caress has replaced the chilly slap of April. I may still need a light jacket for my morning walk on nearby wooded trails, but the knitted cap and gloves remain in the closet.

Rhododendron in the woods

New ferns

Yet underneath all the outward cheer, early summer leaves me feeling a little empty. As the weather warms up, an old sadness resurfaces as its mid-June anniversary approaches. And as a young working mother, I always found the close of the school year, with its many festivities and fond farewells, tinged with melancholy. One more year of their childhood torn from the calendar.

My days of year-end band concerts, sewing on name tags, and packing trunks for summer camp are long over, but for me, June will always outrank January as an important marker of passing time.

Summer breeze

The great thing about getting ‘older,’ though, is that I no longer have to concern myself with summer’s superficial branding. While I do pay attention to advice about protecting my skin, I can turn the page when I see headlines like “4 Weeks to a Bikini Body,” because, really, who cares?

Instead, I’ll look beyond the sunny façade and shake things up. That warmer air and lack of weather-related obstacles frees us all to tackle something different, something hard.

Never finished Middlemarch? Maybe this is the summer to do it. Climb a mountain, learn another language, or try a new form of writing. Test the limits of your brain and your body.

Or—as my husband and I plan to do after decades of full-time work—give yourself a sabbatical. Taking a road trip, living someplace new, and launching a project are all on our agenda.

So yeah, the summer visitors are here; let the season begin.

**

Photos by Judith A. Ross