You see, I have complained bitterly about winter in this blog - whined about it, some might say- and, alternately, have been in ecstatic raptures about spring in previous posts. Through all of the weather writing, I have neglected the blissful bounty of summer, and I think it's time for summer to get its due. After all - living during these fleeting three months in Iowa is like no other experience in the world. This year we had a very wet latter part of spring, and it has blossomed now in these past few weeks into a glorious, sticky, sun-drenched July. It's hot, it's humid, and it's glorious - everything summer should be.
This morning I picked green beans - ice cream bucket after ice cream bucket of them from my friend's garden. She shared her bounty with me, just as a neighbor did when they dropped of a bag of summer squash on my doorstep. I will return the favor to someone else with something from my garden, because it is summer. In Iowa. That's what we do. The soil here is so rich and alive that anyone can grow anything, but there is something mystical and satisfying about being a part of 'the club.' Whether it's a backyard container with a single tomato plant, or a half-acre survival garden, we are all part of that group, whose membership is made possible by our beloved state's benevolent weather and good, clean dirt. And, it's a good club to be a part of it. There is something inherently wholesome about sun-warmed, dirt-fresh, dimple-fleshed produce from the garden, and the grubby fingernails and toes that go along with them. They makes you want to do the right things - like eat better, read a bedtime story to your children, go to church more often, and make homemade ice cream.
Of course, it's not just the produce and gardens that inspire goodness. It's in the air. Yes... We do have more than just humidity in the air, though sometimes it can be hard to detect. Listen... listen.... can you hear it? That sound - just now? It is the frogs in the neighbor's pond. The crickets in your basement. The cicadas thrumming away in the top of your maple trees. It is the crack of a bat, the whir of a child's bike tire, the distant rumble-grumble of thunder. It is summer, singing its endless and humble song. From the percussive rattle of metal wheels and horses' hooves on my gravel road, to the woodwind's mellow refrain as the wind blows through the pasture grass - it is summer. If you're not paying attention you will miss this concert, and it's playing its heart out just for you.
This week I made it a point to take a break from the beans and the weeding and the work. I wiped my hands on the kitchen towel, slipped into my worn sandals, and stepped outside of my air conditioning and busy life. I chose to spend an hour or so sitting on the swing with my friend during the hottest day we've had in years. The sun and humidity were intense, but the joy even more so.We heard laughter in the forefront and lawnmowers in the distance. It was nice. Tonight I found myself returning to that swing because of the delight of an enraptured three-year-old, who proudly pointed out that she had found the moon. Indeed she had - a more important and astute discovery than most people make their whole lives. We lingered for a while as the yellow, new moon skimmed across the sky, listening to the breeze in the corn. When the lightning bugs showed up and the whole sky was lit with star upon star upon star, I knew they were simply the flashbulbs and marquee that come with any headlining act, for I was in the presence of greatness.
They are dedicated and capable, practiced and finely-tuned, but don't be fooled - this band has been booked for a limited engagement. I'm ever so blessed to have been given - free of charge! - a front row seat (and a swinging one at that) for this multi-sensory, life changing, outdoor musical extravaganza. They have the biggest stage, best acoustics, most talented musicians, and most outstanding special effects you'll see anywhere. When the kitchen is empty and the clothes have been left half-folded, you'll know where to go looking for me. After all, it's the social event of the season. I surely do hope to see you there.
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