“Come on Summer!” was my fire department mantra. This simple exclamation got me through all those extra winter shifts I worked in order to “go missing” from June to September. That’s how much I love the summer season.
Now decades later, nothing has changed except I have a greater appreciation of “Summertime and the living is easy.” Maybe it’s because I have more summers behind me than in front of me. I’m well aware that time isn’t on my side. Therefore, I’m on an obsessed mission not to squander an hour/day of this (for me) primo period of the calendar year.
“So Jeffie! What’s so special about summer?” Well, I’m glad you asked inquiring reader.
Summer is about abundant daylight, sunshine, wildflowers, waterfalls, snow-free high country trails, camping (lots of that), baseball, outdoor concerts, patio Happy Hours, the Carbondale Mountain Fair, pika sightings, photogenic pregnant puffy cumulus clouds, Trail Angeling on the Colorado Trail, fresh peaches and barbecue.
It’s the season of shorts, flip-flops and gaudy tank-tops. (Yet, still being prepared for inclement weather at 10,000 plus feet. Remember Hypothermia never has an off-season.)
But more than anything, summer is about my personal well-being. I’m at the top of my game both mentally and physically. I possess hummingbird energy (until 8:30 pm). I wake looking forward to the day. (Unlike winter when I feel as if an obese Mississippian Walmart shopper sits perched upon my shoulders.)
Best of all are my above tree line rambles. For lunch, I alight on a soft rock with a long view. Preferably within sight of a potential pika colony. While nibbling on a PB&Boysenberry sandwich, I take in the Rhode Island sized scene before me. Then I begin my Durango as a basecamp mantra. “This is so amazing. I live in a beautiful place.”
In that moment, I’m at peace.
I’m happy.
Photos that require an explanation:
I took a midsummer break to rest my arthritic knees at the Carbondale Mountain Fair.. It was two days of food, IPAs and a few gummies of overindulgence. That’s me volunteering on the Peace Patrol. (Yes, I was sober!) Apparently the riff-raff knew their was a new Sheriff in town. All was quiet on the Carbondale front.
Just doing my job.
Special Kudos to Jim Jim and Martha for allowing me to camp at the JJMart RV Park in Carbondale. It’s the best in the West.
Photos from my final resting place:
A summer ritual of mine is a jaunt up Handies Peak. It’s here where my estimated 6.5 pounds of ash and bone fragments will be left by Keith Sambur and Justin Sambur. (AKA the best nephews in the world.) In this photo, I’m clutching a two gallon Ziplock bag. I’ll probably fit into that with room to spare. Why waste money on an urn?
To paraphrase one of the Passover Four Questions: “Jeffie! Why was this year’s hike up Handies different than other years?”
This year for the first time, there were two pikas greeting me at the top. The word must be getting out along the Pika Pipeline. This Wondering Wandering Jew is on our side. Jeff is all about Pika Power and keeping the fuzz balls around for future generations to enjoy. My favorite season wouldn’t be the same without pikas.
In case you missed this last post:
Come on Summer!
Jeff
