As I recap the summer I’m bringing up an old poem of mine, one that is even more appropriate today as it was when I wrote it 2 years ago. The words, “My beloved Summer full of new and strange adventures” bring all kinds of new meanings now. This last summer was the most traveled summer I had ever had and I am so thankful but how can I really thank all of these experiences?

How do I thank the Grand Canyon for its radiant rocks and its quiet, swirling wind that made me feel like I’m the only one on earth?

How do I thank Stonehenge for reminding me that my life on earth is just a mere blip on earth’s timeline and that I am not as significant I should think sometimes?

How do I thank Bryce Canyon, with its mystical hoodoos and glowing red rocks on the canyon floor blinding me with beauty?

How do I thank the beach for bringing calm to my chaotic brain?

And how do I thank Paris? I mean, seriously, how does one thank Paris?

Standing in so many different terrains this past summer – countrysides, cities, canyons, the desert, the beach – is humbling, to say the least. I had never been a huge traveler, and didn’t really understand the allure. I also had a huge fear of flying which kept me home. And then I read a brilliant quote and started to reconsider my priorities:

If you think adventure is dangerous, try routine, it’s lethal

– Paul Coelho

But my gratitude to this wonderful summer not only goes to the earth but to my husband, my favorite sidekick and the best travel companion ever. And to my mother, who is the most energetic 80 year old I know and part of my traveling wouldn’t have been possible without her support.

Now, onto the poem and my favorite pictures (film and digital) from my journeys. Captions below each photograph includes camera information.

BELOVED

Hands down, Summer is my favorite season.
I can’t even think of the wintry months ahead,
as the skies turn dark today. Surely I will yearn for
my Atlantic ocean,
my garden,
my sunsets,
my warm rain,
my soft earth;
my beloved Summer full of new and strange adventures.

As the Autumn Equinox begins,
the essence of Summer wilts into my 45th memory
of my favorite season of all.
Every year it seems like a gift to me to see the earth teeming with life.
Every year,
each year,
gets shorter and shorter.
Surely I will yearn for the sounds of
my crickets,
my waves,
my lawnmowers,
my fireworks,
my birds,
my favorite song playing through an open car window.

Because Summer is the song of childhood.

As the Autumn Equinox begins,
it reminds me that soon the earth will become hard again,
covered by the blanket of crunchy skeletons.
Soon the skies will be black,
the air will be cold,
and not only will I feel it,
but I will see it.
Soon the technicolor landscape on the hills and the mountains
will bring nature its last show of the year,
its grand finale,
before the curtain falls on another cycle.

And that its grand finale can be majestic almost cures me of my Summer woes,
as if nature itself talked to me,
whispering its bittersweet goodbye,
that it will be back.
And I cling to my life,
hoping and praying for my life,
that I will see the wonderful cycle happen again.

And again.
And again.
And again.
And again.

To see again,
hear again,
feel again,
touch my sun-kissed skin again.

My beloved Summer,
my beloved Life,
full of new and strange adventures.

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