Summer Days

Yesterday I got to stand outside in the middle of the day for a few minutes. It had just rained. The air was heavy with the scent of milkweed (a bit like honeysuckle and the preferred food of monarch butterfly caterpillars.) The humidity from the inland sea was practically visible in the air.

Fresh blackberries

While I was outside, I gathered a few wild blackberries from the edge of the garden and thought about summer. It goes by quickly. Mine is measured in planting and ripeness:
- Are the hyacinths up?
- Are the cold weather seeds in?
- Are the lily of the valley up?
- Am I too late for that seed?
- Are the hot weather seeds in?
- Are the strawberries ripe?
- Are the irises up? Peonies?
- Are the tomato plants in?
- Are the lilies starting?
- Are the squash seeds in?
- Are the mulberries ripe?
- Are the blackberries ripe?
- Are the gladiolus coming up?
- Are the peaches ripe?
And it goes on and on....

For me, fresh fruits and veggies from the garden are the taste of summer. (More so than the rather famous Chicago festival.) But it's not all of summer. There are concerts outside and on the beach. There are art festivals. Some I've been to; some I've missed with the ever popular "next year" on my lips.

By nature I'm a planner. I think every gardener is. I know every marketer is. But sometimes, in the rush of planning, I lose sight of this moment. The small days blur together - I know it's Wednesday, but I forget it's Julia's birthday. And that's how summers are lost.

Take-away - This the day you have. Now. It's a gift. What are you going to do with it?