Florida Summer Journaling

Remember that bumper sticker that read "I'd rather be golfing". I saw a bunch of variations of it and I thought they were somewhat funny. I'd rather be doing something else than sitting in my car in traffic. Yeah, that's usually true, until you don't have a car. Then you're sitting in your home watching tv or doing something else that no one notices thinking, "I'd rather be stuck in traffic." Smile. Forcing a ha ha. Yeah, it's funny and it's not funny.

It's officially summertime. Just saying that word (summertime) makes me think of songs from "Porgy and Bess" and reminds me of a Florida singer who would belt out the song "Summertime" with such soul as to become unforgettable in my mind. I always wondered at the line ..."your Daddy's rich and your Mama's good looking...." agreeing with the Mama part and wondering if Daddy was just stingy or didn't like me.

I like the four seasons. Autumn is my favorite, then Winter, then Spring, and Summer is last. I've never really cared for Summer. June, July, and August, the hottest months of the year if you live somewhere that experiences all four seasons in their typical glory. When we were kids, summer was (supposed to be) the best. No school, plenty of time to play outside with our friends, and warm sweet weather to go swimming with. But after school is over, Summer isn't the same. It loses it's magic. It loses it's appeal. Parents who don't have lots of money are burdened by having too much time with their kids. Mom says the kids are in the way of her housecleaning and personal time with Dad. Dad says getting to work with the blistering heat makes him want to give up. And these days, the kids don't want to go out there in the Florida summer because they don't like sweating, they don't like mosquitos, they don't have a swimming pool, and there is too much traffic to ride their bikes around safely. So they stay in their rooms playing video games in the air conditioning, while Mom gets the housecleaning done and Dad is at work trying to tolerate the heat and praying that summer goes by quickly so that the cooler temperatures return.

Having been born in the North, it was the opposite. From November to April (six long months) it was very very cold and most people couldn't wait for summertime. Though women would wear their glamourous fur coats and men would strap on their finest boots, it was typical for most people to complain about the cold and the snow. Summertime was the reward to look forward to for enduring those long cold days and those chilling nights when the fire didn't seem like enough. It hasn't been that way (that perspective or feeling) since 1990 for me. I graduated high school in 1989 and once time off from school wasn't something to look forward to, summer became the worse season of the four.

In 2025, I am retired. Sure I write and do odd jobs for some extra cash when I can, but for the most part I spend my days throughout the year trying to find something to do with myself. The past few years I really got into gardening. I've always been into music and painting, but gardening brought something else out of me -- a nurturing aspect that I didn't know I had. It is so satisfying to watch something grow that I aided in. I am always so surprised and happy to see nature show me what she does without my help, but when she lets me help, it is a joy that I have come to appreciate very much. Yet for all my good intentions, hopes, and desires for my gardening in the back yard, during the Summertime nature does not seem to want me around poking my fingers in the dirt. When I try to trim the weeds, the mosquitos attack me viciously. When I try to sit outside and enjoy the sunshine, the same thing plus I can't even stay out long enough to feel myself sweat because the humidity is so thick I feel asthmatic. It's simply not pleasant. The beauty is still there and I want to enjoy it, but the elements (the temperature, the insects, the air volume) seem to be all against the enjoyment of it. Does Summertime in Florida want to punish us for enjoying the other seasons? If so, I feel especially sympathetic to the youngins still in school. What do they have to look forward to? A new game at GameStop?

As I write this journal, I am aware that the date according to my calendars is July 10th, 2025. Summertime in Florida. The summer of my 54th year of human life. The 54th summer of my life as a female, as an American, and as a witness to all of God's gracious and beautiful miracles. I sit in an air-conditioned room trying to be patient and grateful for the comforts and provisions I have. I am a habitual complainer. If I wasn't complaining about something, I think whoever knows me would start to worry. However, I notice every good thing also even as I complain about any "bad" thing.

Summer isn't fun anymore. I didn't want to admit or accept that, but my complaints about it for the past four years were not just typical rants. From my experience and my witnessing, I can say that I really do think that Summertime in Florida is worse than Wintertime up north. Thank God it doesn't last six months, is the nicest thing I can say about it.