The Apogee of Summer
Tempus fugit. Time flies.
We return from Scotland (read about our first trip there last summer) to the weightless days of summer, a Sargasso Sea of time.
Like a projectile at the top of its trajectory, gravity is temporarily forgotten, the buffeting of air resistance upon descent yet to come. Illuminating lives slightly lost and aimless, the afternoon light is direct and unapologetic and intense.
Naps are welcome.
But, alas, gravity never takes a day off. Weightlessness is all part of the script.
Summer opens in June like a vista down a broad leafy esplanade, a smorgasbord of possibility, paths in all directions, the heart leaps.
But the Way of the Soonzi Warriors makes itself known. “Soon’s I do this, I can do what I really want to do, soon’s I do this other thing.”
Before you can turn around, June is gone, stolen by the attrition warfare of the Soonzi Warriors.
The longest day of the year passes, the seconds of light begin to tick away, a parabolic acceleration of diminishing daylight, speed picking up like a falling projectile. Hardly noticeable at first, one thinks one has plenty of time.
Now it’s July. The gales of autumn far away, the lilting freshness of Spring but a dim memory. Shorelines are indistinct.
But then analytical thought rears its ugly head.
The Dreaded Naked Ladies
In three weeks, confirmed by calendar, the naked ladies will warn of Summer’s waning.
The naked ladies in this case are not homo sapiens, but rather a species of flower Amaryllis belladonna that presents strikingly pink flowers on a stalk with no other foliage for about a week every summer.
They are beneath notice beforehand and quickly die away to underground bulbs afterwards, almost dreamlike apparitions in the plangent summer light.
A mere two weeks after their impertinent display comes the “crispies.” Leaves that softly rubbed together take on a new sound, raspy and urgent, vital fluids already draining away, the beginning of a death watch.
The water table rises, no longer pulled on so hard by trees, the light changes toward a yellower palette.
This intermediate time that we are in brings forth a formless and mysterious yearning, a feeling that something powerful and profound is right at hand if one could only seize it.
I submit that this is one of the central aspects of the creative urge. An uncomfortable yearning, an awareness of the things that one doesn’t know that one doesn’t know.
Embrace that feeling. Surprise lies there.
With gratitude from my studio to yours,
Nancy & Bruce
Nancy was interviewed by her publishing mentor, Chandler Bolt, on his Self Publishing School Podcast.
It was auspiciously published on July 7, 2022- our daughter’s 20th birthday.
Watch the podcast HERE.
I am so glad you both enjoyed your visit with family to beautiful Scotland. I have not yet visited, but since discovering Britbox channel on prime video, I am amazed at the hidden gems of the British Isles.
Great photos of the castles and beaches. Thank you so much for sharing with us.
I will definitely do a trip before time flies away! Enjoy the rest of our lovely summer.
Thank you for sharing your beautiful poem and the images of your trip to see your daughter. Ahh, our children grow up so quickly and begin their own adventures…mine are 47 almost 49 and 50 1/2 …I shared your poem and images with my daughter who has begun traveling on her own to places she has wondered about , but not seen before …
Re painting…I have been sketching.. with a sharpie…ideas coming…and soon will brush colorful paint on a canvas.. painting in the early morning hours before my husband wakes…painting is more energizing than coffee ….
Still in the No Coincidence camp–Scotland-sigh. And you saw your daughter:) How marvelous!! I know it was a truly spiritual experience by the way you’re briefly, eloquently and ethereally you wrote about it.
So- here goes- My darling daughter’s name is Jenna Rose-then last name, of course. When I got to the beautiful picture of the Single Rose-St Andrews, Scotland, with all the white and different textures and the red, red rose in a glass, with a seashell by it-I was blown away. She died a bit over 3 years ago. But now I can look at this. Thank you for all your shares.
Warmly, Terri- Jenna Rose’s Mother Forever.
Oh dear Terri, I’m so very sorry for the loss of your precious, beloved daughter three years ago. Ah…what a beautiful testament to your love for your daughter. I was stunned and mesmerized by that singular rose in that room of shimmering summer light, so high in latitude. I wondered why I kept staring at it. Now I know. Thank you for writing Terri. I’m deeply moved by your words of love for your precious, forever daughter.
This spoke to me – suffering from the soonzies – so much to do and painting is impossible on hot summer days as my painting room gets the full afternoon sun and resembles the fires of hell. But I have not been painting in the morning because there is meditation, exercise, gardening to do (also not a favourite in the heat of the afternoon) and so I find that over a year has passed and I havent painted a thing. Help! I can’t remember how to start or even if I can.
Anita – I’ve been there too. One thing you can do is “force” yourself to go to you studio. If that doesn’t work, as often does not for me, I let the time go by and wait for the energy to show up – finding I’ve learned some new things while dormant – soo to speak. Either way I think can work out for you!
Hi Anita, yes, I know what you mean about the soonzies- especially when surrounded by roasting heat. It’s hard to move when it’s so hot! Keep the faith. I see that Denise has written to you with wise words above.
This had a lot of meaning for me .. especially – yearning to know what isn’t yet known, but knowning it can be found.
I also bet the trip to and back from Scotland felt as if you crossed a million seasons filled with many emotions. Maybe “light ticking away” and I will say no more.
I’m glad you got to see your dear daughter!
Hey dear Denise, always love to hear from you! Yes- it sure did feel like a big crossing of time and space. Thank you Denise.