Greetings! We’re past mid-August and ready for the slide into cooler weather. We got a taste of Autumn recently, with cool breezes and chilly evenings (though I’ll probably forget during the heatwave coming our way). I’ve been watching parts of my garden yellow and crumble as they come to the end of their growing cycle. Some plants are annual — the plants grow, flower, then die at the end of the growing season. Others are perennial and may hibernate through winter, sprouting back to life with the return of the light in Spring. So, too, with humans. Our projects, aspirations, careers — I don’t think I can say it better than The Byrds in their song “Turn! Turn! Turn!”:
Harvest time is a reflective touchpoint — what have I worked toward? Have I accomplished my goals? How will I continue to work in the slower, colder, darker months? So far, 2023 has been a period of joyful growth for me. Sure, sometimes I wish I could bask in the glow of an endless summer, but at the same time I find comfort in the seasons and cycles. Ebbs and Flows, Light and Shade, In and Out.
I’ve gathered, collaborated, created, danced, sang, rested, hydrated, played. I’ve worked, reflected, hoped, and thanked.
How was summer? I want to say it was the “best”. Since when? I don’t know. Why do I feel that? Who’s to say! I tend not to pick favorites of things — I might have a top-5, or a list of a few “favorites” with other qualifiers (top-5 comedy movies, top-5 nostalgic movies…).
So maybe not “best” — but how about ideal? Or just best. This Summer was the best.
I started writing this thinking about a cookie. Not A cookie, the BEST cookie. I think telling a story about the cookie will help round out what I was getting to in my intro.
Here you go:
Be Fearless and Play
This past weekend, I was invited to my husband’s aunt and uncle’s home for a backyard movie night. We watched “Grease”, including a sing-along with whisks for microphones, snacks, and a post-viewing campfire. The audience was friends and family who had known each other for decades. Humans who have stayed friends since early childhood and continue to play together decades later. I was in Heaven on Earth standing witness to their friendships, as well as immersing myself in play for a night.
What sticks out to me most is the cookies (in addition to all the other wonders of my night, my summer, my life). I can say, without a doubt, that I have had the best cookie of my life. Now that I’m thinking about it, I don’t even know what kind of cookie it was! They showed up like magic! During the movie, someone started passing around a tray of fresh-out-of-the-oven homemade cookies. The perfect warmth, soft and chewy in the middle, crisp on the edges, and mix of flavors. The Best. The end.
Any other cookie I eat for the rest of my life will always be compared to this one. That’s not to say that all the others were bad, no.
As I was eating the cookie, I thought to myself: This is it. Savor this. The best cookie I’ll ever eat. Don’t forget this.
What do I notice?
I notice the murmur of conversations between scenes.
Enthusiastic dancing.
Crinkling of snack wrappers.
Coolness in the air.
Glow of lights.
Warmth of good company.
The cookie itself was made with L-O-V-E. I could taste and feel it. Immersed in it.
It comforted me.
There’s no way to save this feeling, like the seeds of my marigolds.
I can’t dig it up, put it in a pot, and protect it from winter.
This is it.
May It Last
(This next part got a little messy as I tried to unbundle a thought and turn it into words).
Can’t I make this feeling last forever? Bottle it up?
In moments like this, I anticipate Winter. I used to “hate” Winter, then tolerate it. Now? I don’t know. Anticipatory grief for a Summer that’s not even over yet.
I wish I could bottle up this Summer feeling. Turn the cookie, campfire, people — into a tincture. A spray. Medicine. (I’d have to remember to take it out and use it, but if I could save it and take as needed, I’d be set for life).
I feel myself clinging to this Summer feeling. This blissful feeling (I’m a bit of a bliss junky). I recognize (though I try to deny) that feelings have seasons.
Gardening, being in nature, watching something grow, cycle, flourish — to be smelled, eaten, witnessed — grown from nothing into something, cycling in and out — and standing witness to that — helps me translate a feeling into an image. Taking something indescribable, and getting a little warmer.
Maybe you get what I mean. I hope you do.
I played a lot this Summer — in gratitude.
As I close out the season — packaging seeds, pulling up spent plants, passing along unrequested bits of my self — I give, not as a chore, a weight, or a burden — but as an offering. An opportunity to grow something. A seed of an idea.
I’m grateful for the friendships, relationships, companionships that have blossomed this summer.
I hope you have a lovely, sunny, Sunday (or whatever day, weather, or time you’re getting to this).
Take good care!
Love,
Jessie
