Wednesday, April 29, 2020

Endless Summer


So for some of us lucky ones who aren't struggling with unemployment or home schooling, 2020 has turned into the year of Endless Summer. (Note: This is also the title of my all-time favorite Beach Boy's album, dealing with the same archetypical idea). 

We always used to dream of this back when we were kids; no getting up and going to school or work, weekdays running into weekends then back into weekdays again without skipping a beat, and long, long days when anything you didn't finish today just got moved to tomorrow's agenda.  

Even the revolution of the planet is cooperating at this point, yesterday I woke up at 4:30 a.m. to find it was already getting light, and last night it was still dusky after 9 p.m. So the White Nights of summer are on their way, too.



I have to admit that in my childhood dreams of Endless Summer there were more hamburger stands and beaches open. There were parties to attend, clothes to be bought, and new haircuts to try out, too.

But other than that, yes, this is Endless Summer. Sure, it's actually still spring, but I'm hoping we can get away with just renaming it Early, Early Summer. It seems appropriate that once the weeks start blending into one we may as well just throw in the seasons along with it and call it our endless summer vacation. 

So Early, Early Summer is currently in all its glory in our parts, and once again I'm stunned by the vibrancy of color that comes out of my garden. I didn't plant all of these plants, but I'm willing to take credit for the difference proper fertilizing, pruning and mulching can make in a landscape. 

As I mentioned, we planted a tree out back the other day, a Dogwood called "Cherokee Brave." And while it is something of a commemorative tree for this current time, it's also a practical planting, because a good shade tree is key to Endless Summer, too: A place to sit with some iced tea and a garden journal on a hot afternoon, or maybe even a strong Cosmopolitan and a bad novel a little later on in the day. Or reverse the order and have your cosmo at 10:00 am. Because Endless Summer, you know?




The vegetables are all up and growing madly, the way they do in Oregon once it stops raining every day. Honestly, I've never grown plants in a place so amenable to the plants themselves. Stand still long enough and some mystery vine or grass will begin covering your feet. It's inspiring and also scary at times, how well things grow here. 

I'm currently having way too many virtual Happy Hours with friends. But in Endless Summer, if you're over 21, there must be libations and friendships both new and old. There's a lot of things I'm going to worry about "once this whole thing is over" (favorite phrase of Planet Earth right now). Things like my waistline, my alcohol consumption, and my master-level ability to put things off until another day. 

But I think, for now, I'm just going to be thankful I'm here to enjoy Endless Summer. I don't know what the future holds, but for now it's good in our home, where there is more boredom than worry, and more anxiousness to get out and about than fear of going out and getting sick.

Gotta take your Endless Summer wins where you find them.


5 comments:

  1. I dream of living where plants (the ones I want, not the weeds!) get enough rain and grow themselves. Sounds like heaven. No virtual cocktail hours here, but did have a white Russian while soaking in the tub after a long day working outside. And the days are only getting longer and hotter. Boo. I prefer the fog and overcast, so much nicer working outside. I wilt in the sun.

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  2. After two years I'm still trying to get comfortable with the idea of NOT watering; everything except the newest plantings do just fine with no irrigation due to regular rainfall. I've seen your temps these last couple of weeks, too, and don't envy you that at all; like you I wilt in the heat. At least you've hopefully still got some May Gray and June Gloom to come!

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  3. You're living the dream! When it gets hot and windy my skin gets prickly and I think: FIRE. When I was a kid, fire season was late Sept into Oct and then the rains came in Nov or Dec. Well, that's but a memory.

    Here's hoping for May Gray, June Gloom, and maybe some Fogust as well!

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    1. I loved Fogust...so nice to catch a break in between the brutal North County triple digits! I also remember late summer fire season down in SoCal. Then in October it would turn cooler and by November, it was raining enough that it stopped. That's kind of Oregon's climate now, and I guess Southern California is more like interior Baja, Mexico used to be? Either way, it's weird to have lived long enough to see such a dramatic climate shift.

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  4. Agree, it's unreal to witness the changes within the span of living memory.

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