5 Ways to Fall in Love With Summer Again
By the middle of summer, I usually hear the same complaints.
It's too hot.
It's too humid.
There are mosquitoes everywhere.
And somewhere, someone has already started counting the days until fall.
I understand.
There are afternoons when simply walking outside feels like opening an oven door.
But lately, I've been trying not to wish seasons away.
Summer is doing exactly what summer is supposed to do.
The same heat that makes me retreat into the air conditioning is ripening tomatoes on the vine.
The afternoon storms are watering gardens.
The long days are giving everything more time in the light.
Peaches are becoming impossibly sweet.
Watermelons seem to be everywhere.
Berries stain our fingers.
Basil grows faster than I can figure out what to do with it.
Everything is abundant.
Maybe instead of waiting for summer to leave, there are ways we can meet it where it is.
Here are five ways I'm learning to fall in love with summer again.
1. Taste What All This Heat Has Been Growing
Sometimes I look at a watermelon and forget what had to happen before it reached my kitchen.
Months of sunlight.
Heat.
Rain.
Vines spreading across warm earth.
Then suddenly, there it is.
Heavy, sweet, and full of water.
Summer gives us some of the most abundant food of the entire year.
Watermelon.
Peaches.
Blackberries.
Blueberries.
Tomatoes.
Cucumbers.
Corn.
Peppers.
Fresh herbs growing almost faster than we can use them.
Instead of thinking about the heat only as something uncomfortable, I've started looking at what it produces.
That changes something for me.
The next time you cut open a watermelon or bite into a peach so ripe you have to lean over the sink, remember:
This is what summer tastes like.
And it won't taste quite this way forever.
2. Find Something Beautiful About a Summer Storm
I love the moment just before a summer storm.
The sky changes.
The wind picks up.
Leaves begin turning over on the trees.
Then comes the rain.
Sometimes loudly.
Sometimes all at once.
And afterward, everything feels different.
The air.
The light.
The smell of the earth.
The temperature.
Rain interrupts us.
Maybe that's part of its gift.
The next time an afternoon storm rolls in, instead of immediately thinking about what the rain has ruined, find somewhere safe to watch it.
Make something cold to drink.
Sit near a window.
Listen.
Notice what happens to the garden.
There is something wonderful about remembering that while we are inside making plans, nature is still out there doing exactly what it needs to do.
3. Eat Watermelon Like It's Something Special
Watermelon is so plentiful in summer that I think we sometimes forget how wonderful it actually is.
I love it cold from the refrigerator.
But one of my favorite ways to eat it feels almost like dessert.
I cut chilled watermelon into generous pieces and add shaved coconut.
Then I drizzle coconut cream over the top.
And finally, cinnamon.
Just enough.
It's cool, creamy, sweet, juicy, and warm with spice all at once.
But I also love the symbolism of what's in the bowl.
Watermelon is mostly water, which naturally makes me think of replenishment, flow, and receiving what we need during the hottest part of the year.
Coconut has long carried associations with nourishment and abundance in cultures where it grows.
And cinnamon?
I think of warmth.
Prosperity.
Vitality.
And in some magical traditions, amplification: the idea of strengthening the intention behind what we're creating.
So sometimes my bowl of watermelon is simply something delicious.
And sometimes, while sprinkling cinnamon over the top, I think:
May there always be enough.
Enough nourishment.
Enough joy.
Enough sweetness.
Enough good things to share.
The food hasn't changed.
My relationship with the moment has.
4. Let the Sun Remind You to Be Alive
Summer light feels different.
It stays.
At seven o'clock, there is still time.
Time to walk.
Time to sit outside.
Time to water the garden.
Time to drive somewhere for ice cream.
Time to read another chapter on the porch.
Time to do absolutely nothing useful.
There is a reason sunlight has carried such powerful symbolism across cultures for thousands of years.
Life.
Vitality.
Illumination.
Growth.
The sun makes things visible.
And perhaps summer asks us to become a little more visible, too.
Wear the dress.
Put your feet in the water.
Invite someone over.
Eat outside.
Turn on music while you cook.
Pick the flowers.
Take the picture.
Use the long light.
You don't have to accomplish more simply because the day is longer.
Maybe you can live more instead.
5. Notice What Is Overflowing
Summer doesn't seem particularly interested in moderation.
Have you ever grown zucchini?
One minute you have nothing.
Then suddenly you have seventeen.
Tomatoes ripen all at once.
Basil takes over.
Mint escapes wherever you planted it.
Blackberries appear by the handful.
There are peaches at every roadside stand.
Watermelons are stacked in enormous bins.
Everything seems to say:
There is enough.
I love that about summer.
It is a season that makes abundance visible.
When something becomes plentiful, I like to think about what I can do with the excess.
Freeze berries.
Make pesto.
Share tomatoes with a neighbor.
Turn peaches into cobbler.
Dry herbs.
Make jam.
Invite someone over and cut open the enormous watermelon you've been wondering how your family could possibly finish.
Abundance becomes even more beautiful when it moves.
So look around.
Not only at your garden or kitchen.
At your life.
What is abundant right now?
Maybe it's something you haven't thought to count.
Something Summer Is Offering
Watermelon with Coconut Cream, Shaved Coconut & Cinnamon
This is barely a recipe.
That's one of the reasons I love it.
Start with very cold watermelon.
Cut it into cubes or generous slices and place it in a bowl.
Add a little shaved or unsweetened shredded coconut.
Drizzle coconut cream over the watermelon.
Then sprinkle cinnamon lightly across the top.
That's it.
Cold watermelon.
Rich coconut.
Warm cinnamon.
Summer in a bowl.
If you'd like, sit outside while you eat it.
Let the bowl sweat in the heat.
Listen to whatever is growing around you.
And before the first bite, take one moment to notice just how much had to happen for this simple bowl of food to exist.
Sun.
Rain.
Soil.
Time.
Growth.
Someone planting.
Someone harvesting.
Something traveling all the way to your kitchen.
Maybe abundance has been sitting on the counter all along.
I'm trying to stop wishing time away.
It's surprisingly easy to do.
When it's hot, we wait for fall.
When it's cold, we wait for spring.
When we're busy, we wait for vacation.
When life feels uncertain, we wait for whatever comes next.
And meanwhile, an entire season is happening.
Right now, summer is outside doing what it has always done.
Ripening.
Growing.
Storming.
Blooming.
Overflowing.
The heat will eventually break.
The peaches will disappear.
The basil will flower.
The watermelon bins will become pumpkins.
And we'll move on.
But I'm here now.
So while summer is still here, I'm going to eat the watermelon.
Watch the rain.
Stay outside a little later.
Notice what's growing.
And try very hard not to wish away something I may find myself missing when it's gone.
-Mika