In more than two decades of living far below the Mason- Dixon, summer was the fiery pennance paid for plain vanilla winters.
Just a month into my first full Western New York summer, despite the record heat, I catch myself dreading it's ultimate demise and trying to pack as much summer into the calendar as possible.
Boating, bonfires, swimming, picnics and festivals get an immediate yes. Indoor concerts and talky gatherings can wait until Old Man Winter starts nipping at the evenings.
Indian summer and the rainbow of fall will be gorgeous, but even more fleeting. Give me as much verdant green as possible please.
I want to taste summer in the tomatoes and corn, and bathe in it at the Lake. Seeing it shine by my office window makes the work days unbearably long.
As a child I hated having an August birthday. Friends were scattered by the summer. You couldn't take cupcakes to school.
But this year the orchestra has no concerts scheduled -- I will have five glorious consecutive weekends off -- every single one a summer day.
There will be a run to Saratoga, the county fair and every magnificent weekend at the cottage.
It will likely be the best birthday ever.



Copyright 2005 Judi Griggs