The Book Of Summer

“Bees do have a smell, you know, and if they don’t they should, for their feet are dusted with the spices of a million flowers”.

--Ray Bradbury, Dandelion Wine

I’ve been reading Dandelion Wine, and through it, rediscovering the nuances and rituals of summer. Bradbury set this story in the late 1920’s in a small Midwestern town. It’s more a series of interrelated short stories than a novel, similar in set-up to The Martian Chronicles. It’s also one of the least sci-fi of his books.

It amazes me that though Bradbury is writing of his own childhood, eighty years ago, he also captures the best parts of my own childhood, which is much more recent.

Do children still live and play in summer like they did in Dandelion Wine? Or like I did?

I've decided that Dandelion Wine is the official Book of Summer. The Secret Garden, of course, is the official Book of Spring. But I cannot think of official books for fall or winter. Can you? It has to be one in which the season is more than just part of the background--it must be almost a character itself, or a catalyst for the action of the story.

Submit your nominations for any season in the comments below. :o)

Thanks, Glinda

About three or four weeks ago, I lost my watch. This upset me because it was a nice watch, given to me by someone I like very much, and I like wearing a watch. (Analog, btw--I know, I’m so antiquated). Also, this didn’t seem to bode well for the long term viability of my engagement ring. The watch is much bigger and I only got it two months before--if I can’t keep track of that, how am I supposed to keep from losing a much smaller and more expensive ring?

So you can imagine my relief when I found my watch this morning. Guess where it was? In the zippered pocket of my Camelback, the backpack style water bottle I wear to and from work every day.

So I’ve been carrying my lost watch with me almost daily, for weeks, not knowing it.

I feel a bit like Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz must have felt when she learned that the ruby slippers she had been wearing since she first landed in Oz were the way home she’d been eagerly trying to find: very relieved to find what she had been looking for, and also a bit sheepish that she’d been unknowingly carrying around the very thing she wanted so much.

Luck

Yesterday at work I felt like I had abruptly landed in the middle of Mark Twain’s short story "Luck". As to whether my part in situation was that of the lauded but idiot general, the clergyman, or merely the narrator, I decline to say.

“Here was a wooden-head whom I had put in the way of glittering promotions and prodigious responsibilities, and but one thing could happen: he and his responsibilities would all go to ruin together at the first opportunity.”

Life is very odd sometimes.

Reverie

Last night, I did something that I haven’t done in quite a while. I played chase with my cat outside in the dimly light yard. This is a game I used to play with him almost every day in good weather. There are two variations: I chase him, or he chases a stick or long piece of grass that I move around on the ground. He absolutely loves these games, and will sometimes beg at the door for me to come outside to play with him. I love them too.

Those minutes playing in the yard brought lots of memories flooding back of my old life--the way I lived life before I started dating again. I spent lots of time playing with my cat or even just walking around the yard with him--usually searching for black raspberries. Sometimes after work I would go into my backyard, lay down on the wooden bridge that spanned the creek there, and stare up at the sky. I would just get lost looking at the way the wind moved the leaves and the graceful flight of sparrows overhead.

In the evenings I would make dinner and then eat it on my porch while reading a book. I could get lost in a book--read for so long that when I looked up, the whole world seemed utterly alien because it was so unlike the place I had just been. I would also get lost in the drama of certain TV shows--watching whole seasons in just a few weeks.

Reading is important for my emotional and mental health. And I’m not talking philosophy here--just reading good books. Story is the foundational metaphor through which I see the world and God, so every additional good story deepens my understanding and strengthens the metaphor.

I can’t say that I devoted lots of regular time to praying and reading the Bible back then, but my faith was woven into all these activities. The books I read reinforced my faith and often prompted prayers. Being outside--particularly alone and without a specific purpose (i.e.: trying to get from Point A to B as quickly as possible) very often prompts prayer and praise.

I don’t do any of that anymore. I can’t find the time.

I know my single life wasn’t all idyllic--I wasted countless hours surfing the internet and feeling lonely. I missed a number of fun activities because I couldn’t find someone with whom to do them. Now I do a lot of very fun and worthwhile things because I have someone in my life.

It also isn’t as cut and dry as “I read a lot/played outside a lot while I was single and now I don’t”, either. I go through spell in which I may read voraciously, then not pick up a book for two months. This haphazard pattern is fine, depending on the reason I’m not reading. Not reading because I’m depressed is not good; neither is not reading because I’m too busy but really wish I had the time.

Last night was a good reminder that the person I have been lately isn’t quite the whole me. The person I was before I started dating again wasn’t quite the whole me, either. I need to allow time for both parts--I need to spend time enjoying solitary pursuits like reading or just being outside enjoying nature (and through those pursuits, spending time with God), as well as spending time with friends and my fiancé.

Blue Streak

So I finally bought The Bike.

Between better gearing, lighter components, and thinner, larger tires, my bike is now a speed demon. I’ve shaved at least 4 minutes off my evening commute.
I also started using clipless pedals. I absolutely love them.

They give me more control over the bike, as well as a significant power boost. For those who aren’t familiar with them, your shoes quite literally attach to the pedals, so you can pull up on the pedals as well as push down. But you have to clip out a foot in order to completely stop, because, well, you’re clipped in to the pedals.

I’ve only fallen once.

Last Sunday, I went out on my new bike with Jared. If you’ve never biked to church before, I highly recommend it. Very fun. In fact, it was a previous such biking-to-church experience that contributed to Jared becoming interested in me.

On my old bike, Jared could easily beat me up hills and down. His bike had superior gearing and was lighter. Plus, he had clipless and I did not. This time, however, it was him eating my dust up the hills and down rolling hills. He still kills me on steep hills (I brake--he doesn’t) and he can still out sprint me, but I can often outpace him sitting down.

As much as I’d like to pretend that my new found ability to pass Jared going up a hill is pure skill; in reality, it’s the bike--mine has better gearing and faster tires than his mountain bike.

I was really hesitant to buy this bike because of the price, even though I knew I’d use it a lot. So what really sealed the deal for me was biking to work one morning and seeing gas was $3.19.

Yeah, I feel pretty good.

And I have a pretty bike. :o)

Obsessively Waiting....

“When you have seen as much of life as I have, you will not underestimate the power of obsessive love.”

--Professor Slughorn, Harry Potter and The Half Blood Prince (emphasis mine)

I’ve been listening to the audio book in preparation for the upcoming release of the last book in the Harry Potter series. And I’ve just decided that the above quote is going to be perhaps the most significant, and certainly the most intriguing, idea we will see played out in The Deathly Hallows.

Oooh, now I’m very excited.