Summer

I don’t like this much. It’s not right. It’s not…enough. But then, can any combination of words ever be enough to capture something so intangible? It needs to be re-written.

 

 

There’s something about summer that catches. Something that takes ahold of a heart and never lets go. Something that fills to overflowing, runs over in wonder.

Not the hot sunny days, the cookouts on the lake, the vacations to the coast. Not the ice cream and fireworks and long days of doing nothing and everything at once. Not the clear blue of a sky burnished bright by sun. Not those things. Oh, they’re nice too. But they aren’t what grabs hold. They aren’t what creates memories that live in a heart for years on years, drenching anew with awe at every remembering. They aren’t what captivates and leaves spellbound, staring, drinking in summer.

The days don’t last forever. Each is forgotten as soon as it ends, fading photographs shoved away in dusty albums the only recollection of the hours. The days mean little.

But the nights…the nights are timeless.

The sun setting, casting fire across the mountains and purple and indigo across the clouds. The creek winding through the woods at the bottom of the pasture, humming, more steady than ocean waves and just as thrilling. The sound of a thousand crickets playing soft, speaking of home. The mountains, cloaked in hazy summer night, mysterious, enthralling, and oh, so high. The air…

The air!

Cool across bare arms, slipping breeze-fingers through long hair, stirring through dewy grass under foot. It comes in waves, slow and light, from mountaintops far away, speaking of fresh-mown hay, cool water, tall trees. It breathes of old magic, like the first stirring of rock and root under ground, the first growing of green or turning of the earth. Yet this only deep down, far beneath the surface of misty glory and twilight glow that are now. Transient and nearly invisible, these moments. Yet they linger on to infinity and back, only ever growing more cherished.

For when the sun is gone, time stops. For a few ageless minutes, a glow of light remains in its stead, dimming slowly to the deep blue-black of rest. And it is in these moments that summer is. It is in these moments that everything is, for a few short minutes, really all right. It is in these moments that tomorrow does not matter any more.

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12 Comments Add yours

  1. Lalaithiel says:

    That is so beautiful! I couldn’t capture that idea half as well. =P

    Like

  2. mariertps says:

    *considers* the cicadas… and the crickets and daddy-long-legs. ^^ That is what makes my summer *bounces* especially the cicadas.

    Like

  3. Dragonslayer says:

    This moment is missing loons.

    Like

    1. AnnaEstelle says:

      I’m sorry. None near our house. We live on top of a mountain, remember? No lakes on top of mountains. Just very small ponds.

      Like

      1. Dragonslayer says:

        I am so sorry. Loons are like the epitome of epicness in the animal kingdom.

        Like

        1. AnnaEstelle says:

          They are really amazing. We used to go canoe camping on this fantastic lake nearish us, and we would wake up at midnight and row out on the lake and watch/listen to the loons…so amazing. <3

          Like

      2. Dragonslayer says:

        Hah. I’m working at a camp in the Adirondacks. On a lake. I gets to hear them like every single day and night. =D

        Like

      3. juliel1tps says:

        xD Loons are cool. One time though, we were boating, and there was a giant pack of loons in the middle of a lake, and somebody drove their boat right through them, going, like, 40mph. D:

        Like

  4. joctavianr says:

    *figured out one of the signatures of your style* I’ve subconsciously noted this many times but never really thought about it much. You leave out objects a lot (direct objects, indirect objects, objects of prepositions and whatnot). Not as much in your fiction, but in your essay stuff, you cut out these words all the time. It creates a very pleasant, familiar, and slightly clipped feeling in your prose. I think it is one of the things that I have really liked in a lot of your writing.

    Like

    1. AnnaEstelle says:

      …interesting. Not having done English Grammar since seventh or eighth grade, I have absolutely no idea what objects are unless you give me an example. *cough* because I’m pathetic like that. Grammar I hated. In one ear, out the other. Rules are made to be broken anyway. …at least I know subjects and verbs and adjectives/adverbs. And that’s about it…XD Lol.
      …*goes to google this strange language phenomenon so I can understand what exactly it is that I’m doing that you like* heh.

      Like

      1. joctavianr says:

        Lol. You google away. A direct object is the word “Luke” in the sentence “Anna smacked Luke upside the head.” =)
        Now, in this particular piece, I think you may have overused the technique. But, I do like it usually when you use it.

        “They aren’t what captivates and leaves spellbound, staring, drinking in summer.” That is an example. You left out the object which would tell who is captivated.

        Also, you leave out BE verbs and prepositions sometimes. It doesn’t make your writing unclear usually. However, it does make it clipped. Usually you do this well and it helps you, but sometimes it can hinder clarity or stop flow.

        Like

      2. AnnaEstelle says:

        …interesting. I think luke would like that sentence better without his name in it, anyway…*grins*
        *reads it over* Hmm. I see what you’re saying. Now that you mention it, I do see me leaving those out a lot. Interesting. Haha, be verbs…gotta love Adv. Comp. XD hmm. Maybe that’s part of the reason I don’t like this piece much. Some bits of it are good (not to be vain or anything…=P), but it just doesn’t sound right in other parts. Hmm. Cool. I was trying, with this piece, to leave out the “you” or “I” or “he/she/it”. whatever those are. Personal pronouns or something. idk. XD Like with the captivating and leaving spellbound sentence. So…it’s not talking about a specific person, but more focusing on the feeling itself. So it’s still relatable to the reader, but not specific to anyone or anything. No other person or character to remove the reader one step from the feelings/emotion, not even themself (like it would be if I used “you”, which I originally started it using).
        …does that make any sense at all? =P

        Like

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