The Unbearable Beauty of Summer
Nancy cryptically writes, "Ah, summer. What will I do when the light leaves? (Answer: This year, reach for the medicine chest. 2002 -- never again.)"
Perhaps some Merlot in that medicine chest? Or a full spectrum lamp?
Every year about this time I succumb to great fatigue. I know because I checked my journal. "July 17, 2002: Unbelievably exhausted. Tired beyond belief..." Foolish, I know.
As one too susceptible to the sun's charms, I find it hard to sit still. Not when there's running, hiking, biking and home improvement projects to do. And the rest of the time I stare dumbly at my new paver patio and watch the grass grow around it. Heretofore I'd foolishly imagined watching the grass grow was a euphemism for boredom.
I'd re-graded the area around the patio and the piles of dirt made it look forlorn. I waited impatiently for the grass to grow and lo & behold each day it did: Thicker, lusher and more luxuriant, setting off the white of the patio like the green around an Ostian ruin. Is there a thing as too much beauty? It's nearly impossible to read out there without gazing at the fine Douglas Firs in the distance, birds posing as sentries on the tops, or watching the sheen of the grass at patio's edge.
And backyard home improvements beget more backyard home improvements. I remembered that concrete patch, the place where the previous owner had set a pole for a clothesline. Immediately I've got a small chisel & sledge hammer in hand and two hours later, sweat poring off, I've got a decent sized hole in which to plant....more grass.
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