“Squeaky swings and tall grass
The longest shadows ever cast
The water’s warm and children swim
And we frolicked about in our summer skin”
– “Summer Skin,” Death Cab for Cutie
There is something about the summer months that change the way it feels to be human. Maybe it is the thick, humid air. Maybe its some sort pheromones from the fecund earth (if the earth has pheremones). Who knows. It’s one of those great mysteries of existence.
I do know what it feels like though. Something like this:
The dirt on my hands connects me to the earth in a new way, the sweat on my brow reminds me I am part of everything else that came from that dirt. I feel lazy for everything but laying in the grass, staring up at trees and tracing clouds in the sky. Being human feels like enough.
It’s pretty beautiful.
A few weeks ago, we set up at a camping site at Mohican State Park with a clear, cold river running twenty feet behind our tent. We built fires every night and played in the running water every day, burning to ash then washing away all of the worries built up through the busier months, leaving something else behind. Not refreshment exactly, but more like reminder. It’s still all over my skin.