A goal to savor summer

The last day of July – traditionally I’d think this marks a point of only one more month of summer. That summer is over half-way gone, and it’s time to scramble to pack in all the plans that are unrealized for this year. But maybe I should shift that approach and instead focus on savoring each and every day of this glorious, albeit short season.

I tried complaining about the excessive heat and humidity we had a week ago. Temps were in the 90’s, heat index was above 100, and there was no cooling down overnight. But then I tried to shift my focus – yes, I was still hot and I was sweating. I wasn’t able to sit outside to read, I wasn’t able to work in the gardens, and I found myself wandering inside to the comfort of air conditioning. But if I launched my kayak in the early morning I could take advantage of the coolest time of the day. And if I found a place to read in the shade and with maybe a light breeze, a tall glass of iced tea was a good accompaniment to my reading. And then when it was the late high-heat of the day and I was tempted to escape inside, I could walk to the beach and jump in the lake – a surely quick way to cool off!

So maybe, just maybe, my attitude needed the adjustment to summer. Rather than complaining about the heat and complaining about how quickly the months are going by, I could embrace and savor each summer’s day – the sun-drenched heat, the thunderstorms that roll through and give way to a bright rainbow, the fireflies that blink after the sun has set, the plethora of stars on a dark and hot summer’s night, and the opening in the clouds that was briefly painted in the late evening sky and reflected in the calm waters below.

Waiting for the fog to lift

It was early morning when I launched my kayak into the lake. The smell of fireworks from the previous night’s celebrations hung heavy in the air. There was no wind, no movement; the fog had developed overnight and was now suspended low over the lake.

This is my favorite time of day – the after dawn quiet when the world slowly awakens, before the rush and hurry of another 24 hours. I paddled as quietly as I could, rustling up some ducks that were gliding through the lily pads. Someone had recently been sitting on this dock, throwing their fishing line into the lake, and hoping for a bite. The rod was left leaning against the bench but at the ready for the return of the angler. Perhaps that person was waiting for the fog to lift.

A quiet morning at the lake

It was still early in the morning. The red sun had risen and managed to shine its light through the smoke and haze that has blanketed our area. There were swallows sweeping above and over the lake, gathering insects, resting on the pontoon cover, then continuing their aerial acrobatics. Occasionally I could hear a bird off in the distance. But as I sat at the end of the dock, my attention was focused about 20 yards in front of me. A loon was gracefully floating by, intent on things other than my presence. It went to the south, then to the north, and then it dove under the surface. After what seemed like an unusually long time, it reappeared…with a snail and some greenery that it found on the lake bottom. It floated by me, turned, dropped everything from its beak, dove down again, and disappeared for another long time, only to resurface way out in the center of the lake.

I treasure these simple moments – the quiet of the morning, the birds, fish, and animals doing what they do in the early hours of daylight, and the ritual that has played out for decades and eons. And I try to imagine someone sitting by this same lake shore observing a similar moment one hundred, two hundred, maybe three hundred years ago.

Pointed to sunset

I recently purchased a kayak – nothing fancy, just a hard plastic one that I can take out on the lake.  I don’t have to worry about beaching it or scratching the hull, but it allows me to explore and enjoy the lake and the shoreline at an up-close and leisurely pace.

I’ve enjoyed watching deer and small fawns along the bank of the lake, turtles that are quickly diving into the weeds, fish that are swimming in the clear and warm summer water, eagles overhead that swoop down into the lake and rise again with a fish in their talons, and loons that cruise the lake then disappear as they dive for their meals.  I’ve been mesmerized by the still lake surface in the early morning when the water is like a sheet of glass reflecting the clouds overhead, the whitecaps that ripple across the lake when the wind comes rushing through the channel, and the quietness of evening as the sun descends behind the trees to the west while the moon rises in the east.

I will never grow tired of nature and all that it offers up to us, no matter the season.

Full moonrise

This past week there was a full moonrise – the strawberry moon, as it’s called.  Although I can’t attest to seeing a strawberry tint where I was, the moonrise was beautiful.  The sun had set, the wind had stilled, and the night air held the warmth and humidity of the day.  Slowly the moon rose above the trees on the opposite shore, clearing them and throwing its reflection into the lake below.  If you listened for awhile you could hear the cry of a loon.  And in the grasses by the side of the lake, the fireflies started to blink.  It was a beautiful night — just the kind we dream of during the bitter cold of winter.