Of course, summer is not without its tempers. The thunderstorm that rolls in at 3:00 PM, turning the sky the color of a bruise, reminding us that this power can be violent. The oppressive heat wave that makes the asphalt shimmer and tempers fray. Summer demands we respect its extremes. But even that is a lesson in resilience: the storm passes, the cool front arrives, and we open the windows wide to let the house breathe again.
Summer is also the great democratizer of time. As children, it meant freedom—the endless stretch of road between the end of one school year and the beginning of the next. As adults, it becomes something more precious: a reminder that heat can be enjoyed rather than escaped. We remember that our bodies are not just for sitting in office chairs but for diving into lakes, for walking barefoot on grass that is still wet with dew, for grilling burgers until the smoke stings our eyes. essay about summer season
As the season peaks and the light begins to shift—that subtle change in August when you notice the sun setting a little earlier, the shadows getting a little longer—summer asks us to pay attention. It asks us to be present for the last ripe tomato, the final outdoor concert, the last swim of the year. Of course, summer is not without its tempers
What I love most about summer, however, is its permission to be unfinished . Winter demands planning; fall requires letting go; spring insists on cleaning. But summer? Summer allows you to sit on the curb with a melting ice cream cone and watch the sun go down at 8:30 PM, having accomplished absolutely nothing of monetary value. It is the season of the "to be read" pile, the half-finished lemonade, and the nap taken in a hammock without an alarm set. Summer demands we respect its extremes
Enjoy the golden hour. It’s here for now, but it won’t last forever.