ode to strawberry solstice
My two favorite smells in the whole world, okay, besides newborn baby feet:
1) Summer mornings.
2) Summer evenings.
They both bear the aroma of life and endless possibility. At least, they did, from the olfactory perspective of a kid.
A new summer day with little on the agenda beyond sleeping in was like heaven (at least until the boredom and the heat set in).
And then - that magical time after dinner. Hours of light left, and plenty of energy. I remember one evening - I was maybe seven - breathlessly running after my friends down the sidewalk, past chain link fences - so excited that I ate all my green beans thereby earning my release from dinner table purgatory. (And they weren't that bad! Yay!)
A full schedule slated with kickball, Big Wheels and lightning bugs until we could no longer see each others' faces and moms called us back home.
Later, to lie exhausted in bed near an open window, the fragrance of cut grass and secret night winds lulling me to sleep.
Tonight is the full moon - Strawberry to be exact. And, on the longest day of the year... the first time since the year after I was born (you do the math) for this occurrence.
I'm sitting on my deck now facing east as I type. The sky is mostly blue with shades of pink and purply gray smearing the horizon as I wait for the moon to top the trees. Neighbor kids and birds compete for decibel levels as they take in the last of the rays. My own offspring sit inside walls - why, when it's so so hot in the house, I have no idea. And I feel more than a little sad.
I wonder of the scents of the summer will ever mean anything to them, or catch them by nostalgic surprise some summer evening when they're my age. Or will they go completely unnoticed and unappreciated.
Now, as I did so many years ago, I wish this day could last forever. That I could bottle up the breezes and the birdsong and this color green and dab it onto my wrists and behind my ears come the depths of February.
I hope you're taking it all in.