Summertime ...

I am always surprised by the changes of the seasons here in Pennsylvania. Rolling emerald hills give way to blazing autumn glory dissolving into to grey haunted forests reborn in warm kaleidoscope meadows relaxing into emerald rolling hills …

And, it’s more than a change in temperature and shift in light. You can feel an alteration in the rhythm of the earth. A slowing down in autumn, a slumbering in winter, a quickening in spring, an arrhythmic riot in summer. And, we ride the cycle ‘round and ‘round.

Now summer’s come, and that inner shift we did not feel with the prematurely steamy days, clicks just as the sun reaches its northern zenith. Summer is a measured dose of possibility. It is a dangerous mixture of expectation, emotion, and chance. Summer is brimming with the obvious and the concealed. Summer is an ephemeral opportunity, offering growth or somnolence. In summer, sometimes, you get what you do. Until you don’t. It is that one more day, one more lazy day in which anything could come down the road, over the hill, around the corner.

And, then it’s gone.