Summer
in the South
Wilson
Crawford
As
the cicadas start their noisy but oddly comforting summer symphony,
I know that autumn with its trees dressed in their coats of many
colors is not too far away. A sense of disappointment, then panic,
sets in. I do not enjoy the heat and humidity (both usually in
the 90’s) that summer in the South brings. It seems, however,
that I have not yet had enough of the good things that a Southern
summertime brings.
I
have not had enough tomato sandwiches. A person can’t really
find a decent tomato anymore to make a juicy, red taste explosion
between two slices of fresh bread. All the tomatoes in the stores
and even at the farmer’s market are the same size, the same
shape and the same color. None of them have any taste. I will
stand on my soapbox anytime, anywhere, and preach the evils of
today’s tomato crisis to anyone who will listen. We finally
grew some of our own this year but they’re just now starting
to come in.
I
haven’t had enough time to sit on the porch. Porch sitting
seems to be a bygone art. People work hard all day and prefer
to retreat to the air conditioned comfort of their homes. This
is why people don’t really know their neighbors that well
and miss out on all the wonders that nature has to offer in their
yards. Even in town we have squirrels, rabbits, and a veritable
aviary in our backyard. Also, people spend too much time pulling
Bermuda grass, Polkweed, Henbit, Dandelion, Spurge, Wild Onion
and every other kind of weed that grows so well. They don’t
get watered or fertilized or tended yet they grow better than
the flowers we have that do. Why is that?
I
haven’t been on vacation yet. People work too hard these
days and don’t take time to smell freshly mown grass in their
yard or the perfume of a Stargazer lily stately growing in the
garden. Too much stress, too high expectations, schedules that
are full from over commitment. The Japanese people have a word
for this called Karoshi which literally translated means “death
from overwork.” If you’re parked on an interstate trying
to get home at 6PM wondering when the car in front of you will
move again, you know what I mean.
I
haven’t been swimming yet. Many days when I’m stuck
in a room somewhere under fluorescent lights, I think about the
days of carefree summers when I headed off for the area swimming
pool on my bicycle dressed in my cut-off blue jean shorts and
t-shirt. We kids would spend the entire day there, laughing and
splashing in the cool water. Our mothers wouldn’t worry a
bit because times were different then. Whether we spent the day
in the woods, in a tree house, or at the pool, they knew we would
be home safely for supper.
I
must try to squeeze some of these things in before football kickoffs
and tailgating begin. That puts extra pressure on me, which in
turn makes me think of Karoshi. Excuse me while I go outside with
some freshly brewed sweet tea, sit on the porch, and make a list
of things I need to do.
***
Wilson
Crawford is a writer from Winston-Salem, North Carolina, and
can be reached through his website, www.wilsoncrawford.com.
©
Wilson Crawford