Lazy days of summer

Are you fully immersed in summer?

In case you’re not sure what that entails, it’s dinners on the deck and drinks on the lawn and hanging out in the sun.

They call them lazy days of summer, don’t they?

I enjoy time outside in my garden too, putzing away at picking veggies, weeding to keep things tidy and generally being at one with Nature. Sometimes, it can be a bit much though…

I don’t have many lazy days outdoors, but then that is my own fault.

 My most daunting task at Rabbit Hollow is to pull weeds – it seems every year we have a new species that wishes to be counted in the general population.

I was perhaps over-exuberant when we had a friendly neighbour turn over a section of the front yard for veggies, as it is a patch twice the size of our kitchen and with spring rain the weeds take firm hold.

I spend the rest of the summer taking out my frustrations by pulling them out.

My sense of accomplishment is fulfilled with my rows of my wacky vegetables. This year, I have purple carrots, bull’s blood beets, rebel radishes and arugula all reaching for the sun; soon we will be inundated with the bounty of it all.

Then. it’s about planning fresh menus and pickling what is left over so we can enjoy it through the winter.

Sometimes, I long for the days when they all this fun didn’t wear me out so much. After all, the garden is only the first item on my full page to-do list.

The next item is mowing the lawn. We have upgraded from the old electric mower that could hardly endure our robust combination of grass and weeds, but I still brave the ridicule of the neighbour across the road who has the deluxe riding mower complete with cup holders.

Once I have the mowing completed, I haul out the weed whacker and wave it around the perimeter, fighting off the crab grass and other tall interlopers.

As the freshly cut bits of grass stick to my legs and I smell that aroma of dirt and grass, my aching muscles relax a bit as memories came flooding back to me of summers doing the garden chores.

Ah, the peace of the days when having green feet and a tank top tan were the worst of your worries.

If I’m especially lucky, my wistful experience will reach its pinnacle when I hear that familiar sound of bygone days. The first time it happened I thought perhaps it was my imagination but no, sure enough a moment later the ice cream truck came toddling down the road with its carnival music blaring for all to hear. 

That is a sign to take a break and simply enjoy the moment, if ever there was one.

There is something pastoral about a quiet day in the sun with Mother Nature and her creatures. I like to sit on the grass and slurp my popsicle, soaking it all in.

It does my soul good to Ella snooze in the just-mowed grass under the cherry tree, and to hear the birds chirp as they chase each other over the lilacs.

I am very grateful that we have a little corner all our own, and I much prefer those noises to the hustle and bustle of the city.

For you city slickers, maybe a pot on the patio is enough to fulfil your gardening curiosity, and a visit to the farmers’ market in support of local growers is more your kind of thing.

Ultimately, I think the secret lies in finding your own peace, a place where the world stops still for you so that you can just breathe it in and smile.

This article is written by or on behalf of an outsourced columnist and does not necessarily reflect the views of Castanet.