Summer Isn’t Just a Season

Depending on where you live, Summer officially arrived June 20 or 21.

Is Summer a season you eagerly anticipate… or one you simply endure?

Have you ever stopped to think about what Summer really means to you?

When I do, I’m immediately transported back to my childhood.

For a couple of weeks every Summer, I stayed with my “second mom,” who lived out in the country in another town. The lane leading to her house seemed to go on forever, bordered by white fences with horses quietly grazing on either side.

Most mornings, I was in no hurry to crawl out of that wonderful feather bed. Eventually, though, the aroma of fresh coffee and bacon drifting through the house would coax me awake.

Time moved differently then.

A single day seemed to go on forever… and felt as full as an entire month does today.

There was no rush. No schedule packed from morning until night. Days were enjoyed reading, talking, swimming in the pond, or fishing with a simple cane pole and a can of worms that I had found under some big rocks. I honestly don’t remember watching television, although I’m sure there was one somewhere.

One of my daily chores was walking that long country lane to the mailbox. Along the way stood an old windmill that made running water in the house possible. What I remember just as vividly, however, were the thousands—or at least it seemed like thousands—of grasshoppers that exploded from the tall grass with every step I took.

In my memory, every single one of them landed on me.

(You guessed … I don’t like bugs.)

I can still feel the air.

It seemed to stand perfectly still—hot, heavy, almost as if there was a bubble wrapping itself around me. The steady hum of those grasshoppers filled the silence, creating a soundtrack that only Summer could produce.

Today, that lane and those grasshoppers are no longer part of my summers; however, the feeling of Summer remains.

The days stretch longer, gifting us with precious daylight. Wildlife seems to move at a gentler pace. Doves quietly raise their broods in the hollows of the cacti while hummingbirds dart from feeder to feeder, sipping fresh homemade nectar to fuel their tiny bodies. Even the warm desert breeze seems to encourage me to slow down and simply notice.

Summer still carries a quietness of its own, although today it’s often interrupted by passing cars or airplanes overhead. Finding true silence has become much harder than it once was.

Some traditions, however, never change.

Memorial Day and the Fourth of July continue to gather family and friends around picnic tables, backyard grills, and smokers. The smell of barbecue fills the air. Watermelon appears on the table. Family recipes and sometimes even the dishes they were once in—are passed lovingly from one generation to the next—making another appearance, creating new memories while reminding us of old ones.

Is it obvious????

I love Summer.

Not because it’s perfect, but because it invites me to slow down, enjoy more time outdoors, watch breathtaking sunrises and sunsets, and savor the extra daylight we’ve been given.

I wonder, as you’ve been reading this message…

Did your own memories begin to surface?

What does Summer mean to you?

If you have children or grandchildren, what memories are you creating today that they’ll still be talking about years from now?

Summer lasts only about 93 days.

Several of them have already slipped by.

The question isn’t whether Summer will pass or if it will come again. It will.

The better question is:

What will you do to make the Summer of 2026 one you and those you love remember it?

Pause for a moment.

Decide what you’ll do.

Put it on your calendar.

Then drop me a note at joan@jmclark.com and tell me how you’re making this Summer one worth remembering.