I had my pinhole camera in hand when I joined up the kids camp a few days ago. It's always a good time. And when I processed and looked at what I'd gotten on the film I thought, "Next time, Therese, go when you can really be present with what you're doing, because there's so much there!" It's a blessing to be so near the river and it would be wise to take advantage of it, photographically. What happens? Do I forget? Who knows.
Right now...it's hot. It's a little humid, but not unbearably so. Maybe I'm getting used to this? I'm noticing that time seems to pass so quickly that dwelling on it being too hot or humid for too long hasn't happened yet. Of course, that still could come since summer has just started!
I was thinking the other day about all the different places I've experienced seasons and in particular summer. There was where I grew up in southern California, with its June gloom and later hot sidewalks and open windows at night. I even seem to recall some summers that it got hot enough for my sheets felt like they'd just been ironed when I got into bed. Later, in early adulthood, I had the good fortune to live in San Diego for about a year and a half. It was divine. I thought I'd never leave San Diego. Summers were mild, less June gloom than up near L.A., and it was a time in my life when I had my first apartment and felt the energy of newness and potential. I remember running, which is funny to think of me running, on the beach or in my neighborhood, smelling all the different scents of the plants. Then there were the nine years that my ex and I lived building our family in Phoenix. They were little then, the kids, so summers were a lot of going to the zoo, or finding a pool to stay cool in. There were lots of trips to the library and endless hours of sitting on the couch, reading stories to my young listeners. Day after day of endless sunshine and heat produces a different kind of cabin fever. But if we managed to get some monsoon storms into town, that was quite lovely. I could take the storms in the desert better than I can here in the mid-Atlantic...the level of intensity seems much greater. And then there were all the years of summers in my beloved Bay Area. Yes, June gloom and fog, but when it cleared there was nothing better. Fennel scented sea air on the breeze, hanging in the back yard grilling salmon, little get aways to Sea Ranch up the coast and the easy access to glorious summer fruit. Needless to say, sharing it with family made it all the more precious. It was magical.
Now I am here in Richmond, Virginia, learning what summer means in the mid-Atlantic. The fireflies are wondrous, the bird song, the deep lush green of the woods. I can, for the most part, deal with the heat and humidity (the mosquitoes are another story!). So, I feel fortunate to have yet this, another experience of summer time.
