If you took all the minutes I’ve spent faffing around unproductively on Facebook this summer and put them together, you’d probably get about as much time as my children spent watching TV when they weren’t supposed to. We could all have achieved so much more.

But summer isn’t for achieving more. Summer is for being too hot and lying around sweatily complaining about it. Summer is for long cold drinks and running out of ice. Summer is for bottles of beer with wedges of lime in them and being too apathetic to make a real dinner. Crackers and cheese it is, with some salami and a few cherry tomatoes. A meal fit for a king. A barbeque under the umbrella. Grilling in a thunderstorm.

Summer is when you wish away the weeks till your vacation, and then you wish them back again because you’ve already been and other people’s are still to come. So then you start looking up midterm break dates so that you can plan something else because otherwise you’ll have nothing at all to look forward to ever again.

We’ve done the uphill slog getting into our summer groove. We’re on hiatus with camps now, but next week we’ll be on the downhill careen to our trip away, which is time out of time. It’s really just a whole new set of stresses and challenges, messing with routines and time zones and sleep patterns and dietary habits and digestive systems. It doesn’t make anything easier but it makes it different, maybe sometimes in a really fun and good way, and at the end of it all we’ll come back to real life with a newfound appreciation for the old and familiar, all the things we’re dying to break loose of right now.

And so it goes. Another summer fritters itself away in sunshine and flash floods and ice creams and bare feet.

Orange flowers


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