|Photo courtesy of clouducation|
I honestly don't think I've ever been anywhere or experienced anything as perfect as the past two days here on Cape Cod. The first day of Summer came in full glory, and it was non-stop-wonderful from the first breath, as if Summer were a newborn baby.
From the moment I woke on Saturday, right straight through the setting of the sun last night, I was hyperactive. I cleaned things that had been neglected for a long time, I laundered everything I could get my hands on, sorted things, re-did closets, readied all of the plastic-ware that we use for beach dining, shopped, planned, and visited. I even managed to get some time to rest and some time to play at a watercolor demonstration called "painting with gravity". More about that later.
Was it the fact that my husband was away for the weekend, visiting his mother? Did I feel the need to fill my time? I honestly don't think so. Here's what I do think. I was "nesting". Getting ready in a way that women who are in the final hours of a pregnancy, carry on. Preparing for the arrival of the new season, much the same way I did when prepping for the arrival of my children. I doubt that I will ever forget scrubbing the grout in our bathtub with a toothbrush during a heat wave in August of 1973, sticking sequins onto Styrofoam balls, one by one, in March of 1971. I knew the baby birdies would soon arrive and I had to have everything in sight readied for them.
So, Summer is here, the new baby has arrived. I probably slept right through the Solstice. That's what happens as a result of this "nesting" phenomenon. I used to teach childbirth classes way back when young couples took time for things so mundane as learning to breathe and control their bodies without drugs. By the end of class Number Six, I made certain that they knew the signs of the onset of labor, that there would be a surge, an irresistible force that would drive them to do extraordinary things that would exhaust them. I cautioned the soon-to-be moms, told them to try very hard to not give in to the urges, to sit it out and rest, knowing that labor would be approaching and they would need all of that strength and stamina.
I'm sitting here now, suddenly aware of birds chirping in the trees and I'm sure that I'm hearing tiny noises that I have not yet heard. Spring is over. Welcome Summer.