'Tis the Season

Summer Hours Edition. *Chapter 49*

I’ve decided to declare Summer Hours for the rest of July/August to let myself off the hook for later posts this season. As I work towards a fresh schedule for Fall, you can expect more regularity in the time my posts go live (9-10am) as well as extra content I currently have in the works. Paid Subscribers, I am wrapping up writing and working with Bonnie on illustrating a small cookbook to offer you as a token of my immense gratitude. Thanks for being here. On with the show…

The Cape, by Bonnie Lynn Felton, lynnfelton.com

Driving home from my parents’ house last night, AC blasting directly into my face at 10pm, I couldn’t conjure what it feels like to get into a freezing cold car and wait for the heat to warm up, blow comforting hot air at my frozen body. I’ve lived 40 winters, been driving 24 of them and yet, I can currently only recall the sensation of frigid car AC drying sweat onto my forehead. Blasting my cheeks to the point I worry I may develop facial paralysis.

After 8 years in California, I was delighted, back in Georgia, to be reintroduced to true seasons. September welcomes cool Fall breeze, December cold (but mild) Winter, April, a warming Spring and June, hot sticky Summer. Always something to look forward to. A bowl full of tomatoes that has adorned my kitchen counter all month, reward for thigh chafing and AC that can barely keep up with the heat.

Sliding my feet into sun-shrunken purple Crocs that live in my parents’ backyard, I stomp through the garden I planted when I lived with them in 2020. Dahlias that continue to come back season after season, their frail stems growing sturdier with every pruning. Hydrangea I placed next to the hammock to provide them a little afternoon shade, finally flowering deep blue three years later, snacks for the deer that hop the fence and brave the threat of two dogs. A lumbering Labrador who could be mistaken for a deer himself and a neurotic terrier trash mix concerned his own shadow may murder him if he’s not careful.

Seasons are so literary. Romantic. An invitation for presence. Basking in long evenings it seems impossible that a few months from now we will be robbed of the light. Watermelon juice dripping off my chin. Tomatoes sweet like apples. Cucumbers with olive oil and salt. Roasted zucchini pasta. Opening a door at night to a blast of scorching air similar to peeking into an oven while it’s baking. How could it ever be cold again? How could I possibly ever want to bundle up in a cozy coat?

I was a sweaty teenager. At 16, I was self conscious, sure that the damp beads dripping from my hairline signified how unattractive and gross I was. I hated Summer. Shorts and bathing suits a hazard to my fragile mental health. In New York City, where I spent my early 20s, buildings and concrete held the heat, pressed it down into my scalp where it leaked down my face. I always ended up on the sunny side of the street. Lack of shade cooking my pale, Victorian complexion. My attempts to look like Carrie Bradshaw foiled by under-boob sweat and bangs soaked into two single strands of greasy, wet hair.

Somehow, in my four adult summers back in the South, I’ve embraced sweat as a signature of the season. I’ve aged out of caring. Accepting I don’t like shorts because they’re uncomfortable. Bring on a bathing suit, we’re going to the pool. You can’t get produce like this when it’s cold. But then, you also can’t wear an oversized blazer and a lovely knit either. Always something to look forward to.

I read once that Christmas was created as a way to lighten up the darkest months, a consolation for surviving while only the roots can thrive. To me, Winter always seemed a gift for the humiliation of Summer heat. Now I wonder how I’ll ever crave a stew. Heat has wrapped me up so tightly I’ve fully forgotten about teeth chattering chill. Opening a door to an outside that is blustering and icy? Thank goodness, I suppose, for the romance of twinkling lights and holiday cheer to warm up the mood.

In my older age, I’ve embraced decorating for the seasons. Ceramic pumpkins patiently await late September. Lights for our Christmas tree hang tight in their box, ready for their moment to shine. The bowl of tomatoes I mentioned earlier, Summer’s sweet ornaments. Looking forward to the pledge a changing season promises, renewal, remembering and forgetting. Nestling myself in Nature, taking its lead, I languidly check off my ToDo list because it’s too hot to move too quickly. I am enjoying this summer so much.

Even though I joke that I’m meant for a constant dreary drizzle and a plaid wool blanket for my lap, I’m thankful to know now how to embrace the heat and the sweat. I’m in the summer of my life, able to be present. Appreciative that every moment has something to offer. Sticky with melon juice and excited for ripe figs. The light will dwindle soon and I’ll realize I’ve forgotten again what it feels like to stick to a seat. I’ll wonder how I will ever again wear only a sun dress or wipe my drenched brow merely for standing outside. But I will remember slowing down, decelerating and sinking heavily into exactly where I am. I’ll bask in the light I’ve collected from all the summers I’ve lived so far. Today, I’ll say hello to my visible toes, lazily hit publish on this late afternoon post and continue pondering the appropriate grammar rule for when to capitalize the seasons. Happy Summer.

Gonna change this section up and expand it to offer things I’m doing and liking since I’m lacking in the reading department and struggling to bring you recommendations beyond the IG and YouTube comment sections I waste hours skimming.

DOING

I left the gym last year when I got followed around by a creep who wouldn’t leave me alone and have been opting for home workouts ever since. I love these from Eleni Fit. The music is stupid but I love that she doesn’t talk and coach throughout. Her workouts are a mix of pilates, yoga and cardio with a focus on balance and core.

WATCHING

The DVF documentary, Woman in Charge, on Hulu. Oh my god, what a fascinating, chic, incredible life. I was sure I’d told you about this recommendation but I can’t find a post where I mentioned it. Anyway, I once wrapped her holiday presents as a temp job in her TriBeCa loft and will never forget her sweeping down the staircase and thanking each of us for our time. She was so lovely and kind.

LISTENING

This absolutely mind boggling podcast episode on consciousness. I’m an hour and a half in and like…what…but also like…yes. If you enjoy trippy science/spirituality crossover, you will like this.

Goodness, I must say that I am finally feeling so much better. The contrast of wellness vs sickness so clearly demonstrated to me how I’ve been functioning at half capacity for the past few months. Listening to my body has never felt easier as the PTSD of feeling like crap has informed everything I eat and drink. Making the opposite of the habitual bad choice (see: four glasses of wine vs one and a mocktail) has really helped my return to vibrance. What a relief.

Looking forward to bringing you a podcast episode this Friday with my dear friend, Jessica Doris Dube. She’s a screenwriter, ceramicist, horse trainer extraordinaire, so incredibly sharp, interesting and well-spoken, you won’t want to miss it.

I hope you are doing well and taking care of yourself as best you can. Thank you for being here, I am always sending all my love to you through this screen.

xoxo.