Slowing Down Summer
The precious, fleeting minutes of summer are full of my appreciation. It’s an active season, requiring lots of energy. There are always pesky weeds to pull, an overzealous garage begging for an annual culling, and a needy (but absolutely loved!) garden ever seeking my attention. There’s an odd comfort in the obligatory rituals, yet sometimes they feel like dragging-down weights. I am deliberately carving out slices of slow this summer to savor some of the things for which my soul thirsts.
Sweet summer rain. July 16, 2026 Maple Valley, WA
Early one day when I was finishing my usual morning walk up the very long hill, I got caught in an unexpected lightning storm. A sudden downpour filled the street with rivers as I found modest protection under a stunted evergreen. Inhaling deeply and looking skyward, I appreciated the refreshing droplets dotting my face during the last half mile back to the car.
During another afternoon amidst the heat of a 90-something swelter, a stray trickle of purple huckleberry sweetness dripped from the cone onto my suntanned hand. This is the quintessential summer taste of the Pacific Northwest. There’s no better place to enjoy it than on the skirt of Mount Rainier, looking at the alpine meadows dotted in cheerful hues. The vastness of the mountain and the abundance of trees honor the Divine Design during moments like these.
Buck waiting for a snack. July 23, 2026 Maple Valley, WA
When I arrived home from work one day, three adolescent bucks were nibbling in my garden. They didn’t run as I walked into the house, feet away from them. I returned with an offering of juicy, red Cosmic Crisp apples. Tossing them towards the boulder near the forest line, I watched them approach with sniffing noses and twitchy tails. It’s become a secret daily ritual now. By next week, I’ll most likely be naming them.
Nerdvana. July 22, 2026 Maple Valley, WA
Crackling ice bobbed up and down amidst a sea of homemade sweet tea as I found comfort in the sanctuary of my backyard. The scent of smoky cherry bourbon surrounded me and my laptop as we worked together at the table.
Splish Splash. July 22, 2026 Maple Valley, WA
A familiar friend, an old, freckled robin returned, fluttering and splashing away in the blue mosaic bath under the silver maple tree. Clouds sewed themselves together and the air became still as leaves turned upside down. A storm was coming. A crackle of thunder confirmed this in the distance. I relocated to the front porch, enjoying the rain under shelter, looking out over the thirsty flowers and ferns. As the light dimmed into evening, I noticed that my laptop smelled peculiarly of L’eau de Traeger.
I’m trying to be deliberate about being in the space at hand, stretching more life into my years, making the most of mindful moments. I don’t need Paris or Iceland or Greece, although I’d enjoy that, too. It’s the appreciation of what’s around me that will bring me the most peace in the remaining days of my unexpected life. My paternal grandfather commented once that he had no desire to see sunsets anywhere other than Erie. He lacked my driving wanderlust, content instead with the gifts in his immediate proximity. There’s certainly so much to be thankful for in my immediate vicinity as I slow the minutes of the summer.
Sunset over Lake Erie. July 2021 Harborcreek, PA
July 24, 2026