Why is summer amazing? Is it because of what we do in summer? And if it’s about what we do, then why is summer so particularly ripe for the doing of things we love?
I want to get to the heart of why summer is amazing. Why we hold it in such high regard. Why we wax nostalgic about summers past and why we look forward to the always not-too-far-off “next summer”.
Part 1 – Space
Summer starts as the time of year we spend outside. From birth it’s the time when the sun is out and there is room to explore. Our parents want to take us to the beach and funny hats are worn to bring our love of sunshine and our fear of melanoma to a peaceful and personally-shaded middle ground. Adventures into the forest for a hike, or to a field for a picnic leave us a little freer than before. The scolding after we brake a mantle piece at home is replaced with the normalcy of a broken twig. The hushing and reminders to use an “indoor voice” are replaced with the power and joy of an outdoor voice (which never needs a reminder to be used). The worn and tired knowledge of our predictable toys is replaced with the endless new discoveries found in natures ever variant gifts.
There is room in summer. Enough time is the assumption. Defaults modes fluctuate between lazy and without rush, to all the time we ever needed to finally go camping.
And as we grow up, summers become even more important. As school starts as some half-day exploration full of friends and play, it marches straight towards back-to-back classes and short lunches. Play is replaced with work (which is a tragedy because play is such good work), recess with PE, free-time with homework, and questions with answers. Eventually summer becomes the essential space to breath between the hurried, exhausting and mentally taxing rest of the year.
Then as we get older summer starts to fill up. Slowly at first, but persistently. Reading assignments tax the resting mind with a looming obligation and a persistent feeling of incompleteness. Life’s costs demand a summer job (which for many is just a full-time version of the part time job they where working during the school year) and summer starts to run out of space. Eventually we get a get a big-kid job and the very notion of summer vacation is taken away from us.
But even here, as burgeoning “productive members of society” summers are where we carve out space. Its when bosses care a little less about stepping out early, or if lunch runs long, or if on Friday it seems like half the office is out. It’s still when we camp, head to the beach, and sit in the park reading a book or talking to friends. As life feels like it’s losing space to breath, and every bit is about to fill up, summer is where we take our stand. And for reasons habitual, cultural, and environmental, it works; summer lives on as the time in our life with a little more space, a little more room to breath.