If you ask me, the solstice comes too soon to summer.
I want the longest day to come when fireflies dance and corn cobs sag on tall green stalks; when sandhill cranes call loudly over still lakes and sunflowers face proudly toward the sun.
I’d like to feel just a hint of burn on my well sun-blocked shoulders and I want my skin to smell of river water and Coppertone Sport during the longest day of the year.
Ideally, I would be toasting marshmallows and feeding logs into an unnecessary camp fire while the moon rises lazily in the sky for the shortest gig of its year.
But, I live in Wisconsin, where the last snow pile melted just this week, and strawberries are about two weeks from sweet, and the lilacs are just peaking, and only the heartiest of swimmers have hit the pool.
For us, here in the Northern climes, the solstice comes as a warning, more than a celebration.
Summer is fleeting, it says. The days wane quickly.
Get out there!
Swim!
Play!
Picnic!
Bask!
These glorious days will only grow shorter, so make the most of them while you can.
Build a sandcastle, hop a scotch, watch a sunset, swing until your feet touch the sky.
Summer’s here and it won’t last long.
Let’s go get it!
I would love summer if not for the humidity.
Good point. That hasn’t hit here yet but then neither has the real summer warmth.