I don’t recall ever loving Summer this much. Why this year? Is it because both kids are happier outside, and outside is easier in the sun? And I like light, and space. Really, my fondness for parts of the USA come down to that. Light and space.
When the weather is like it is, when it is pleasant and warm, but not too warm, then our garden becomes a place we hang out from breakfast ’til dinner. It becomes another room – full of colour and water and balls and sand. Even though it’s not a huge garden, it’s a place I really do love to be, with both wee ones.
Plus there’s something about June, too. My birthday month, so maybe that’s enough to make me a June bug, through and through, but more than that – the way the sun takes its time to leave the sky, the way that days slide on just a little longer than the day before, so that even when night does arrive, it can’t be taken seriously.
I wonder what words there are in other languages that try to capture something of this type of light. I could string together all the Junes of my life and cry with such joy – all the evenings that have marbled in some kind of incandescent light. I want to stay in these hours, where it seems as if the whole world swells.
‘I don’t know exactly what a prayer is./ I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down/ into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass/ how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,/ which is what I have been doing all day./Tell me, what else should I have done?’ (Mary Oliver)
It’s easy to be who we are, to feel, to think, to welcome, to breathe, to stop, to laugh in June. To shake off tiredness and stay up late, anyway. There is too much world exploding in bellows of celebration not to pack up your summer bag and head to the park or the forest or the gardens in town. Tell me, what else should I have done?