Welcome if you are visiting because you are on the 2016 A to Z Post Challenge Road Trip This is a series during the month of June celebrating Summertime
“Every summer there are a number of nights, not many, but a number, when everything is perfect. The light, the warmth, the smells, the mist, the birdsong – the moths. Who can sleep? Who wants to?”
― Fredrik Sjöberg, The Fly Trap: A Book about Summer, Islands and the Freedom of Limits
Fourteen days into June, I wonder if you have had a perfect summer night yet? Do you remember having to go to bed when it was still light outside? I was raised when bedtime meant bedtime, be it summer or not. It didn’t matter that you could hear the older children still playing outside, or how much light remained, or that summer ought to change such rules. I remember sneaking out of bed to sit on the radiator cover my father built, which gave me a perch to look out on Asbury Avenue through the open large double-hung windows. There, I would watch dusk descend and notice the birdsong dying away for the night, while fireflies began to light up the shrubs. Straining to eavesdrop, the mummer of the neighbor’s voices were indistinguishable, but comforting. A few cars always passed by, and leashed dogs went round the block for their last walks.
It was perfect, the light, the warmth, the smells, where I practiced the art of being alone, of listening, and taking into my future this scene I now share with you, and can revisit anytime. Tonight, just before bedtime, remember what a perfect summer night was like while you were growing up; it was a blessing then and can be again.