20190826 00102d 6 minutes
Summer, Seasons, country life,
Summer in the country.
My favorite time of year:
The time we dream about
As we brace ourselves to fight
The cutting winds of the concrete canyons,
Or wallow our way thru the icy slush
As we attempt to traverse snow-piled intersections.
Summer, when we no longer need
To look like Nanook of the North;
When we can throw off lined waterproof boots,
Heavy sweaters and down coats
And insulated ski-pants.
Summer – when we can wear minimal clothing and still be warm,
Tank tops and short shorts,
Flip flops or go barefoot,-
That wonderful time of year!
Summer in the country!
Getting away from the City with its
Heat, noise, cars, rudeness, and crush.
Friday evening, dreaming of our get away in the woods,
We ease out onto the West Side Highway, North.
We leave behind the oppressive heat,
The humidity rising in clouds mid-street
Like malevolent volcanoes,
The acrid smell of omin-present air conditioners
With their watery overflow.
* * * *
Summer Friday evening on the Thruway:
Three accidents ahead of us.
The children eat, quarrel, argue, text on their cell phones,
And finally dose.
Air conditioning helps,
But it’s close to midnight when we arrive:
Beds to make, car to unload, grumpy kids to bed down.
Finally, peace on the deck by the lake.
This is what makes everything worth while.
Oh! Where did all these mosquitoes come from?
Have they been fasting all winter,
Awaiting their summer banquet?
And those noisy bugs? Are they practicing for an orchestra?
Oh, well. At least it’s cooler here –
Actually, it’s bloody cold.
We’ll definitely be able to sleep well tonight,
And late tomorrow morning!
This mattress is full of lumps, and I’m sure it’s damp.
How can anyone sleep with all those noisy bugs out there –
And in here?
What’s that? A bat? In the house?
Please say “no.”
What’s that infernal noise that woke me up?
The neighbor’s lawn mower, or is it the chain-saw?
Can’t he use it later? This afternoon, maybe?
He’ll wake the kids.
Too late. They’re already up.
That’s the end of sleep and rest for one night.
Breakfast by the lake! Such luxury!
It’s fun cooking outside, like camping.
But the wind isn’t cooperating.
First it whips the smoke and flames around,
Then blows the flame out.
But we need our caffeine fix –
The coffee shop in town beckons.
The children see the neighbor’s kids swimming,
And decide to join them –
They run down the dock and jump into water.
They SCREAM. It’s COLD.
It takes their breath away!
They’re back in the house double-quick,
Disproving their teacher’s opinion
That they are locked in slow motion and can’t move fast.
A nice relaxing walk in the woods after lunch.
It’ll give us a good appetite for dinner.
We visit with mosquitoes, fleas and ticks,
Not to mention poison ivy! We are all itching all over,
We trip over tree roots, downed branches, and rocks.
And brambles scratch our bare unprotected legs.
Dinner, at least, is an unmitigated success:
We go to our favorite local fancy restaurant,
And come back with doggy bags for tomorrow.
We all take chairs onto the dock –
It’s a beautiful, warm starry night,
Until the wind gets up, bringing in big black clouds,
And cools everything off rather fast.
By morning the heavens have opened.
Rain pours down with complete abandon.
Breakfast is a grumpy indoor meal.
With no incentive to prolong the agony
We pack the car, dodging the raindrops,
And are soon back on the road,
Clutching last night‘s doggy bags.
It seems everyone else has the same idea
So we join the convey South,
Looking forward to returning to a home
Without mosquitoes, ticks, poison ivy, brambles,
Neighbors with lawn mowers and chain saws,
And with air conditioning,
And a nice warm swimming pool,
Without snakes, turtles or fish,
And with level floors
Without rocks and tree roots to stumble over.
Who ever said summer in the country was good?