Cape Chowdaw: The Long, Slow Slide into Summer

Nothing is sweeter than the slow fall of dusk in July.  The drawn out summer day lingers long past the time when we would have done the dishes, fed the pets, and called the kids in from the yard to come have baths and go to bed. On these July nights, summer seeps into every moment of the ticking clock, and stays up with the blinking fireflies, the fantastically lit clouds of pink and purple,  the voices of children echoing down the street, and to, finally, the great, huge orange moon that rises up from the horizon like a pirate ship and sails from ocean to bay until sinking in the west.

Walk the path with me.

 

In  summerland, we both beg the sun to stay and wait impatiently for it to drop, wishing it away along with the no-see-ums that pester our eyes, ride into our nostriles, and take a walk on our scalp. We scratch like dogs, tantalized by the smell of someone's barbecue wafting across the damp sand of the beach, our stomachs growling for s'mores though we've already stuffed ourselves with hamburgers and fries.

   

Finally, the sun is a fallen souffle of strawberries and cream, a crushed pavlova set ablaze, and night's soft curtain can finally drop, bringing not the end of the show, but the beginning of this season that stands us on our head. 

 

Ride the evening into night with me. Listen as the long grasses sigh with pleasure along the beach, as the water laps softly against the boats for one last kiss, and lovers fall into the silken arms of summer.

 

Summer is here and now.