Except for those of you who live farther north than was ever intended for human habitation, I think we can safely say that summer is here.
Summer makes me happy. Not the humidity, not the electric bill attached to ever-running AC units. And certainly not the bugs. But just about everything else? Perfect.
Laundry loads are smaller because we're wearing less clothing. Garbage-bin-duty is hassle-free because, well, I don't have to bundle up first (a process that takes as long as the actual chore). There is MUSIC outside--birdsong and neurotic chipmunks in the mornings, crickets and katydids and chorus frogs in the evenings.
And, oh. The food. Sun-warmed peaches from the farmer's market. Grilled grass-fed burgers and barbecued chicken and marinated lamb and--well, grilled anything. (The other day I grilled Brussels sprouts. Divinity on a fork.) Ice cream and homemade pickles and potato salad and luscious salads.
The only thing that's missing is the ocean. I long for it. I should live by it, really. In a hut. Other than sweeping sand from my floor and remembering to eat, I could write all day.
*pause while ridiculous daydream runs its course*
At any rate, the season brings a measure of happiness to me. Helpful, when frustration sets in. Helpful, when I feel like I'm grinding my gears and going nowhere. There's something about being rejected in the summer versus being rejected in the winter.
This winter was rough.
Yesterday, I discovered an almost-magical Spot. You know what I'm talking about--it's a Spot meant for Writing. I felt it with every breath.
Picture this: A simple wooden bench. Trees. The remains of a bonfire in a stone-lined pit. A stream. A small deck over the water. Birds.
Yeah. It's always the bugs that stop me. Anything that bites or stings. Or looks remotely like an ant. Yet I found myself planning an anti-bug strategy so I could return to the Spot and spend an entire morning writing.
Long, lightweight pants. Socks and sneakers. All-natural bug spray from Whole Foods. A hat.
I don't know if I'll do it. Bugs are the bane of my summer.
What about you? Do the changing seasons affect your writing? Do you have Spots that call to you in warmer months?
Share! And talk me into actually writing at my new-found Spot. Bugs be damned.