Here Comes Summer

Today is the first day of summer, and if you grew up on the Eastern seaboard, you know what that means: Bugs, sunscreen, sweating and traffic. Sweating in traffic. Sweating on the beach after being stuck in traffic. Falling asleep on the beach and getting a sunburn. Barbecues, fried food, corn on the cob, buttery, greasy, more bugs. Bees and ants. Sand in everything, especially your bathing suit. Watermelon pits. Sunburn at night; peeling skin. Trying to sleep with that droning air conditioner. Sticky sheets. Can you tell it's not my favorite season?

So I was surprised to read the following concerning the arrival of the solstice in an online column called "On Faith," which gives a different perspective: "Gather together with friends, share the early fruits and gather the flowers, celebrate the time of warmth and light today. And know that, just as the swelling fruit contains the seed, the growing light holds the dark, and one cannot exist without the other. At Solstice, the sun appears to stand still on the horizon. Take a moment, be still, and listen to the earth. What does she ask of us, in this potent moment?"

We are all products of our environment and our experiences. I bet the woman who wrote that solstice thing grew up in the middle of the country, someplace where summer was brief and didn't involve undertow, Noxzema and jellyfish. It must be nice to be her.