This was the summer that was and wasn’t. This was the summer of reflecting and being more than planning and doing. This was the summer of more not knowing than knowing. This was the summer of being humbled more than riding high on the anticipated heady fumes of summer. This was the summer I learned more about who I am as I live the seasons of The Precious Days.

So, about this summer of 2023…

About starting summer early and full of anticipation

Around mid-May I was so ready for summer. We placed the Buddhas in their familiar spots. We planted geraniums and pansies in pots with spikes and trailing vines and placed them in their usual spots in the yard: the deck, the picnic table, the small “courtyard garden” tables which accent a bench, steamer chairs, and my much loved Meditation Garden. We populated the lattice walls with all shades of purple annuals, in anticipation of our clematis. We planted a new herb garden. I planted dahlia bulbs for the first time. We admired the apple blossoms. We welcomed summer, inviting her to come early and stay late. I couldn’t wait to experience the magic of June for yet another year.

All photos from this year’s early garden…

About all that June rain

And then in June it rained…A LOT. It seemed like it rained every day. I loved the sunshine whenever it made an appearance and tried not to take it for granted. This kind of summer weather happens, I thought. My husband and I consoled ourselves by talking about other rainy summers. July would be better. We scrolled my weather app for news of dry days. We took a day trip to Middlebury to visit The Vermont Book Shop. We ate lunch along the Otter Creek. On another dry night we listened to bluegrass at Shelburne Vineyard while we sipped a crisp, dry white wine under a June sky that refused to yield to twilight. On other dry days I returned to my summer walks at the Complex happy to be lost in thought…I met a friend from my old work life there one morning for a wonderful catch up. Still…more rain. My husband and I decided to build a little outdoor hut (a patio umbrella with netting) so we at least get outside yet stay dry, and I could read there between the drizzle and the downpours. There was an upside, the rain had seemed to keep my allergies at bay. But we couldn’t do anything about those Air Quality Alerts from Canadian wildfires in Nova Scotia. Those had to end soon, right? We remembered Quebec fires from another summer years ago. And there was still July to come. July was always proper summer.

All photos from June …

About July

July heralded … more rain. My tiny state was deluged. We experienced the worst flooding in 100 years. Communities were literally torn apart by flood waters. It was devastating. We were spared in my section of the state, and so much came into perspective. When the rains finally stopped, the heat stayed — such humidity from ridiculously high dew points. Rather than ending, the wildfires spread across Canada continuing the Air Quality Alerts on our phones. Perspective shift: these events weren’t just caused by climate change, this WAS climate change. July was a real turning point in confronting stark realities with new depths of understanding. My heart ached for the planet. It was still summer, and there were glimmers to ease the angst and take some breaks from globally pervasive worries. We visited our local state park to read for an afternoon while we stared at a calm lake and watched the cormorants careening across a blue sky. We took our camp chairs to the local park to listen to a concert performed by a rock band of former classmates, all in various shades of their sixties. And we planned our annual trip to Cape Cod for the first week of August. We crossed our fingers for good weather and for ample time to gaze into the Atlantic to reflect on all we were grateful for. “This will be the beginning of our summer,” my husband said. And we looked forward to an August summer that would carry us right into the days of mid-September.

About adjusting expectations for The Precious Days of summer

In many ways my husband was right. Our summer did truly begin in August on The Cape. We had a week of gorgeous weather at Marconi Beach. Countless small pods of seals swam close to the shore and actually seemed to be waving to us. Fins were spotted one day a little further out, and Lifeguard whistles blew. I read the perfect beach books for Wellfleet. Seafood was eaten. More of The Cape was explored. We came back for a few weeks, and I read a few more excellent books as the rain came again. And then when we headed to Baltimore to see my husband’s beloved Orioles for 3 games in all their first-place glory, and once again the weather gods were with us. Then, sure enough, we came home to rain. But I came home ready to reflect on all that I had learned about myself over this strange summer.

• Lesson One: When I am thrown off course, as I was this summer, my routines fly out the window. I have written before about the importance of my retirement routines. Those routines got me through last fall, winter, and spring. But I have had the same summer routines for decades, so I thought I’d just cruise. Nope. Those summer routines were firmly anchored in the “vacation weeks” of the working world. They no longer fit or served me. In my first bonafide retirement summer, one which was not coming on the heels of a work year, I was not prepared. The routines I needed to ground me just weren’t there. Retirement rookie mistake on my part.

• Lesson Two: My expectations were too fixed. I had taken for granted that summer would just be … summer. There is an important lesson for me about learning to be more nimble in my own life and adjusting accordingly. Experiencing summer as I’ve always known it…well, as much as it hurts my heart to think about it, that ship may have sailed. Summers will be what they are, and we all have to adjust and do what we can as individuals, as a country, and as a world to address the impacts of climate change. We will all be “doing summer” somewhat differently in the years to come. Going forward, I will be approaching summer with a beginner’s mind.

• Lesson Three: I also learned that whenever there is something to get out of my own way about, books are there for me to create a path. I love to read, but I needed to deeply know and acknowledge how crucial it is in my life. It’s hard to go down the rabbit hole of funk when there are fictional characters to care about or be mad at, and writing styles of such gifted authors to marvel at and sink into joyfully and sometimes in awe. I read so many not just good, but GREAT books this summer. Here are just a few of my favorites that I highly endorse: The Vanishing Half, Remarkably Bright Creatures, Tom Lake, Hello Beautiful, and Rachel Joyce’s Harold Fry trilogy: The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry, The Love Song of Miss Queenie Hennessy, and Maureen.

• Lesson Four: Writing can save my life as much as reading can. My Women Rowing North Writing Group with Helen and the crew of gifted, sensitive, and wise women in their 60’s and beyond is a lifeline. Those sessions where we read our writing and listen to such powerful women’s stories transport me out of the messiest mires of my own making to a place where everything feels bigger than me, and that encourages me to grow. And I have LOVED blogging this summer. It has brought me such joy. But with some trips scheduled for August, I took a break from blogging for the month because that is what bloggers do, right? That really did not work for me. I felt like I lost my voice. I felt like I lost a piece of the self I was becoming since retiring — a piece that already felt core. I need to write these posts, as silly as that sounds. I need to write them for me and hope my readers will find something in my words that resonates. My WRN writing friend Pearl articulated such a beautiful and relatable “why” about blogging in her latest piece celebrating her 100th post. Check out her blog, The Pits and the Pieces.

• Lesson Five: I have celebrated the virtues of Morning Pages in my blog several times. I love the looking forward aspect of the three pages every morning. This summer, I learned they weren’t enough for me. I needed check-in time with myself and more thoughtful processing and reflection on my day. I needed more than my “At Least Three Things” Evening Reflection. So I started a nightly Reflection Journal as a way to look back over the day. I write only what I need to in it and I don’t feel compelled to write every night. It has become a form of meditation, helping me to regulate my mind and my heart.

• Lesson Six: This is the lesson I currently have the most appreciation for — Celebrate September as Summer! Now that I no longer have that “back to school” thing as a major end of summer event, summer really isn’t over for me when Labor Day rolls around. September pulls its weight with three weeks of summer — and they are summer days that usually have something for everyone. There are some sweltering days, some crisp fall previews, and even the rainy days signal hygge is just around the corner. I love fall, and I love the transitional allure of September. When a friend and I were sharing our love for all things fall recently, I told her that after this summer I may become a winter lover. Is it possible that WINTER could become my second favorite season after fall? Hmmm….

I know I am not the first blogger to comment on the sheer weirdness of this summer of 2023. As summers go, it will be one that I remember for its atypical hallmarks that unfortunately are portents of things to come for this fragile planet. And on a personal level, it will be one that I remember because I learned more about who I am as I age. It is possible to savor what is rather than focus so heavily on what was. Those expectations are based on my past decades — the decades I have ahead of me (yup, I am planning on sticking around for a while) are just going to hit differently. And about Lesson Six—stay tuned!

What was your experience of this summer? Did anything change for you that caused you to learn more about yourself? Were you affected by any of the weather extremes? As always, I love it when you share your comments.