In the Summertime If it’s spring or summer where you are, what has been the highlight of the season so far for you?
Sun-light splashes over the top of the houses, its warmth rests in the crowns of the trees and sinks into the bright green lawns. I inch the back door open. A slat of sunlight falls onto the floor at my feet, brighter and more concentrate than what filters through the glass window in the kitchen. I step out to the deck and draw in a deep scented breath of the fresh-cut grass. The deep, sweet, mysterious scents of lilac and roses waft in the air. The Crape myrtles on the both sides of the yard display dense cloud like flowers in lilac, pink and red. I look around,smile and deeply appreciate the famous quote of Scott Fitzgerald , “And so with the sunshine and the great bursts of leaves growing on the trees, just as things grow in fast movies, I had that familiar conviction that life was beginning over again with the summer”.
I sit on a cushion on the deck with newspaper spread in front of me , re-potting a few plants. I move the purple passion plant to a larger brown clay pot with hand-painted white flowers on it. I pour a bag of organic compost around the double color Dahlias, yellow Marigold, bright pink and deep purple Zinnias. My twelve years old tabby cat walks in slowly with half closed eyes, rubs against my bare ankle and purrs. He likes to inspect my gardening skills and may be compares with my husband’s perfect knowledge on plants. He is a gifted gardener. My husband gets real excited as the Summer arrives. He takes care of the vegetable garden to the right side of the back yard. It has all the wonderful plants as okra, eggplant, different types of tomatoes, string beans, spinach, and lots of fruit trees as peach, lemon, plum and dragon fruits.
It is almost nine in the morning. The heat and the humidity has started their secret play. I stand under the peach tree, wipe the sweats from my forehead with the back of my right palm, tuck the stray hairs behind my ear and decide to leave the yard. It is hard for me to tolerate the heat. I prefer to stay inside the house and praise the summer by reading famous poems and quotes. I make a big glass of lemonade and stand leaning against the bay-window and enjoy the pretty honey suckle and clematis that crawl their way up and around covering one of the tree in the front lawn.
Here in my city the weathers make their own decision; some days it starts as a sunny and scorching hot morning , then it starts to downpour in the afternoon or sometimes both appear and play at the same time. I lift my head, glance up at the sky. All of a sudden the thick and gray clouds roll in, they swirl and twist in the ever-rising wind. Lightning flashes and in a few seconds later the thunder crackles before finally settling into a loud angry rumble. Out side the rain comes down hard and the wind whips sheets of water against the glass windows. The storm finally breaks in the early evening. The pockets of mist rise from the ground. I sit on the baby blue sofa and watch the news on houses in flood and high water on the roads. Yes that is my city in Summer. I switch off the tv and lean against the soft cushion of the sofa and decide to plan for our trip to Alaska in this summer, while the beautiful poem of H. W Longfellow plays in my mind,
‘ How beautiful is the rain!
After the dust and heat,
In the broad and fiery street,
In the narrow lane,
How beautiful is the rain!