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Summer in South Georgia has a way of putting everything on hold. It’s as though the humidity is so thick it makes any movement endure additional resistance. Alas, we are in he homestretch of what has actually been a mild Summer around our parts. This is relative to your geography, though. You know how Yankees pride themselves on their Winter heartiness? I pride myself on my Summer endurance which around these parts feels like it lasts a half a year.


This year I have made an oath to myself to appreciate the weather more for its subtleties. To try to keep the AC off when I can and ease myself into the heat. In South Georgia the Summer can be like the winter, you force yourself indoors, you can’t plant anything in your garden for a month or two (except maybe okra and field peas), and when you are in thick of it seems like it never ends. I’ve made the mistake in the past  years that I’ve lived down here by saying that “The heat comes in March and leaves in October”, that it is hot and miserable for half of the year, and the other half of the year it is mild and perfect. This year, I have swore to change my perspective. The weather patterns are not so simple. Yes, there were days last week that were very hot, what I am now thinking of as the Summer Harbinger days. But, I’m trying to imagine the Earth as a sort of choir. Last week was the prelude to Summer, and these remarkable cool days are something of an  interlude, reminding us of what will come again. Yes it will be hot, but if I tell myself that it is one way (Hot half the year, and mild the rest), I blind myself to these beautiful subtleties of the year.

This Mother’s Day the whole family slept in, and I got the best Mother’s Day gift I could ask for, a beautiful sunny morning to myself, sitting at a table with some fresh flowers and a pen in hand. I opened up our backdoor and listened to the birds, trying to discern who was who by call alone. (One of my great loves are birds, though I wouldn’t call myself a birder, and I only have minor “Put a Bird on It” tendencies.)

The best thing about this Mother’s Day morning was just being there, my family safely in bed and a bit of busyness to help jump start my thoughts. The few tasks there were to do: a load of diapers needing washing, a dishwasher to unload, boiling water for coffee, were livened up by being the first things of the day. It was pleasant, and allowing myself to enjoy these things, rather than seeing them as a chore, was a gift I can hopefully continue to receive with each morning. The only way to do this is by opening myself up to experiencing it for the moment and the first part of the day is one of the best times to begin this practice. When everything is fresh and the world seems new.