I remember summer well. It was a time with no structure and
no commitments. I played alone in our orchard, building a tree house, making a
trapeze on a big apple tree and pretending I was Patsy of the Circus (my
current favorite heroine). I remember that I used to do some pretty amazing
stunts on that trapeze. I never fell off either, because Patsy never fell off.
On other days I'd go with my friends into the woods and we'd
play exciting cops and robbers type of games. Sometimes I'd go off on my bike,
find a stream and catch tiddlers and minnows in a jar. Summer days seemed to
stretch on with no end. Sitting on the bank of the stream, warm sun on my back,
eating a cheese and pickle sandwich and fruit from out trees was just perfect.
It still sounds perfect now. Every summer I say to myself
that I'm going to take time off to chill out, to sit in the shade with a book
and a cool drink. And what happens--I look up one day and it is September and
the summer has slipped away.
Of course I know the world has changed. My daughters can't
let their children go off for the day on their bikes. You'd never let ten year
olds play in the woods without adult supervision. But I deeply regret it. We've
taken from our children the time of wonder and creativity and imagination.
Instead we've filled their summers with structure. They go to tennis camp and
swim camp and computer camp, and play dates are arranged. But they rarely have
the luxury of planning their own time, going where they please, stopping when
they feel like it and coming home when they are tired.
I was delighted when we visited relatives in England that
the six year old boy spent the afternoon making potions with various flowers
and ferns from around the garden. I used to do that, and try to make perfume
with squished rose petals.
I think my summers helped make me the writer I am today. I
lived a lot of that time in the world of my imagination. I became observant of
tiny details as i watched nature around me. I became resilient as I fell from a
tree, trying to hammer a plank for my tree house, scratched my knees, cleaned
myself up and climbed back up. Now that I'm a grown up I'm hardly ever bored. I
can always think of something I'd like to do. I can take myself off and wander a
strange city without feeling scared that I'll get lost.
I’ve had a lovely cruise around Spain, France and Italy but
there was little down time. What I really want is to sit by a river bank,
watching the play of sunlight through leaves and just let my mind wander. Alas
there is a new book to start, revisions on a book to do, AND sample chapters
for the next contract. All lovely but… what happened to summer?
What are your favorite summer memories?
