Summer serendipity

"I'm having a good summer."

My son just said that to me. I'm glad for him. It's important that a kid have a good summer, after all. It's a culturally sanctioned break. He gets to sleep in, play video games, read, play golf, hang out with friends, swim, and just kind of bum around if he wants. He has structured things to do, like band rehearsals, chores, music lessons and such. But for the most part, his time is his to spend as he wishes.

All too soon his summers will be about earning money for a car and then for college ... and then his summers will become just another season in a busy, grown-up year.

Like mine.

There is no summer break for me or my husband. We both work and our jobs are year-round. We do take vacation days, but not for months - or a season - at a time. And besides, if given the option, I wouldn't go with a summer break anyway. I'm a fall kind of girl. I love, love, love everything about autumn.

Truth be told, I usually kinda hate summer.

Yes, I said it: Hate. Summer. Me.

I want to like summer - barbecues, flowers, fireflies. But it usually turns on me in a cruel way.

"Ah summer. what power you have to make us suffer and like it," - Russell Baker.

For example:

Summer burns my skin. I don't tan. Nor do I care to. (In fact, it's not 1977 anymore and you shouldn't care about tanning either. You're going to look like a leather purse if you don't stop tanning. For real.) No matter how much sunscreen I apply, my freckles glow after only moments in the summer sun. They're like icicle-style holiday lights left hanging on the gutter of a trailer: they're there all year long, but really light up for the season.

Summer makes me sweat. It gets unreasonably hot and humid here in the summer. As I recall from a meteorologist I talked to in college (which was approximately 110 years ago), the part of southern Indiana I live in, the Ohio River Valley, is part of a subtropical band of weather. Meaning it's crazy hot and humid here in the summer even though it's technically the Midwest. An example: each of the three times I've been to Miami, Fla., it's been hotter and more humid at home than in Miami. Than in Miami.

The oppressive heat pushes me indoors much the same way winter cold does. And so cabin fever sets in twice a year. The crunch of drought-addled grass and prematurely withered flowers is just as soul-crushing as the leafless tree branches of winter.

Summer brings bugs ... and other stuff. Little bugs. Big bugs. Lots and lots of bugs. I don't like bugs. Or snakes. Or lizards. Or spiders ... which I know are bugs, but I'm just reiterating that I'm not a fan.

A front porch visitor from a few summers ago. He was about 3.5 inches in length. Pic was snapped by a shrieking me just before my friend's husband "relocated" the visitor.

I know these critters serve their purpose on this earth. And apparently that purpose is making a run for the inside of my house. Currently there is a lizard that is so big I am pretty sure it's actually a baby dinosaur (the kind that eats meat) that darts in and out of my garage, making for some hurried, horrified encounters as I take trash out through the Jurassic Park section of my mortgaged square footage.

Summer fashions are not my fave. I love Capri pants, but other than that, I prefer the color palette - and layered coverage - of fall fashions. Maybe it's because summer clothes can be generally less than flattering. In the last week, I've been to a water park and a beach. There's not enough bleach in the world to scrub the fleshy images that have been seared into my mind's eye. Look, I'm all about comfort in your own skin - I've said as much - but there comes a time when you have to put the bikini away. That time is sooner than a lot of women realize.

So basically I tolerate summer, much the same way others tolerate winter. Just as they pine for spring each winter, I wish away the summer days for the relief of fall.

Except this year.

Much like my son, I have to admit I'm having a good summer. It's winning me over.

It's not been as horribly hot so far. In fact it's been downright tolerable. I've actually been able to enjoy the outdoors. Even if it blazes in the next few weeks, it still will have been noticeably cooler than the 100-plus-degree temps of this time last year.

It has rained. The last couple of years, we suffered terrible droughts, and this year, not so much. The grass is lush, flowers are thriving and I know farmers are happy.

Nighttime view of the cornfield across from my house.

I went to my happy place. That place is north. For the second year in a row, we went to Michigan and enjoyed the beauty of Lake Michigan. So many people I know head to southern beaches this time of year, but me? I have found my bliss on the soft, cool sands of the great lake. Yes, the water is cold this time of year, but I do not go there to swim (my business does not dip where the fish do their business). I go there to relax, to feel cool air on my skin, to hear the crash of the waves, and dig into a good book.

It only takes us a little more than six hours to get there, and I love knowing it's so close in case I just need to break away and catch my breath.

Wear a hoodie to the beach? Yes, please!

This was a quick trip - just three days - but we had a blast together as a family. And we made a point of watching the sun set on the lake each evening.

Sunset on Lake Michigan from the beach in Holland, Mich.

Because for all its faults, summer always comes through with its long days. Days that greet us with an early glow and stretch out, lingering past the onset glitter of fireflies ... days too often spent in the rush and hubbub of everyday, grown-up life. Maybe I've been too hard on summer all along, just focusing on the negative.

All this time, it has offered a fabulous show every evening - over lakes, cornfields, highways, backyards - if only I take the time to stop and watch.