On A June Summer Night

“Oh, the summer night has a smile of light and she sits on a sapphire throne." ~ Barry Cornwall

On a June summer night, as the fan spins silently over my head and wafts a curl from my warm face, I can hear children off in a distance. The sounds of their revelry in play echo throughout the neighborhood. Somewhere in a distance, a dog barks; in the opposite direction, another calls out in reply. A soft scent of diesel accompanies the hum of the ice cream truck, as its music intertwines with the sounds of the kids, who are now playing Manhunt in the street. And it's a wonderful night to be alive.

On a June summer night, as the warm wind gently carresses my skin, I hear a car pass. Windows are now cast open to invite in the gentle breezes of the evening, and in the western sky, the sun has set, and ushers in the beginning of the night. Spread upon the canvas of the sky are splashes of pink and orange, painted among shades of blue and violet, and the shadows grow long as the light grows dimmer and dimmer. Fireflies dimly flash to one another as the street fades to black. Occasional front porch lights are lit, but the streetlights warm the cold black pavement in a blanket of soft orange illumination, and nighttime is no longer something to fear. Voices begin to fade into the darkness as nightfall sets in with the soft sound of silence that muffles the children into a distant muted cacophany of occasional shouts and whistles.

On a June summer night, I think back to my own days of childhood; when the ice cream man was the only thing I saved my allowance for. When kickball or hide and seek were played until you were whistled for, and when you could see the taillights of Mr. Softee, as his heavy truck hummed off in the distance. His fluorescent lights were the last thing you saw, before your father called you home, or your mother yelled out the door that it was getting late. A time when licking the sticky ice cream off your fingers was a priority, because then you could catch fireflies in a paper cup before retiring to the house to sleep. When cherries hung plump on the vine in the yard, and you could pick them with your friends and eat them until you wanted to puke, because you had filled up, and hadn't listened to your mother that too many would cause a stomach ache. When you delighted in watching rabbits hop through your yard at dusk, or caught frogs in the sump and gave them a place to sleep, in a fish tank in your garage, when you lay in the grass and looked up at the sky and swore you could see the next universe.

On a June summer night, life is magical. Summer is in its early youth, about to hatch another season of adventures at the beach. More family time, perhaps a vacation, or a trip to the shore, and certainly, the end of another school year. Plans are made, parties are to be had, and graduations abound. Orion no longer hunts in the dark skies; Ursa Major spills its contents out over the silent violet-blue as Cassiopeia sprawls out below. Single cars whizz past, an eight second interval that ends in a hiss of stillness. Usually deafened by the air conditioner, sounds of summer on a cool evening before the hot and sticky nights begin are a welcome change to closed windows and the sound of the burner kicking on. And on a June summer night, as baseball games are attended and barbecue parties begin, there is a hint of promise on the warm breezes. Listen closely; the wonder of the season is calling you to enjoy Nature by living in the moment, slowing down, and allowing yourself to enjoy the lazy, hazy, crazy June summer nights, before you become caught up in all of the planning. For before you know it, the summer will be over, and you will not have noticed the chirping of the crickets, the hush of the breeze, the soft tranquility that should be savored and enjoyed for the magical juncture that summer brings; you will not have noticed the children playing, the fireflies blinking silently, and you will not have slowed down enough to listen to the gifts that this time of year brings. Enjoy it, my friends; summer only comes once a year.