Summers’ Gone By

Fim: The Early Years

I think regardless of the sometimes cloying heat, and dog day afternoons, Summer is still my favorite season. I was born in Spring, and I adore  the turning of the wheel during that time, but here, in the North Country, it does not arrive for two months hence, and I spend too much time looking out the window wishing for the Green Ones to grace the land once again.

But when summer arrives, it is, indeed, already here, full of lush hues that color my world a delicious Green with bushes and trees fully in bloom, and fruit near to bursting, where tomatoes never taste better, and gardens are giving forth sustenance of every kind.

I remember the summers of yesteryear. When I was just a wee one, my parents would head upstate to the Catskills, and rent a bungalow, the earlier ones a stones throw from a lake, where sitting in row boats, we’d wander through the berry patches, picking the succulant fruit, filling our containers with it. As I grew in my formidable years, we’d moved on to bigger colonies, where we’d go down daily to the beach on a lake, and splash around in the water for the afternoon. Perhaps a year or two later, we were in yet another cluster of cottages, this time right on the lake, with a pier, and a row boat tied to it, and swimming, and walking and basking in the sun was still a daily routine.

In the summer, when I was just nine years old, my parents were bitten by the camping bug, and we’d stay, camped in a world of forests, with trails that went on forever, right outside our tent.

Fim: The Rebellious Years

Nothing stays the same. It’s not something man made. It’s Nature’s Way and we begin to become our own person, to decide to spend our time as we wish, and leave the fold.

Summers became a hazy, lazy, daze, where I mingled in gatherings, with music in the air, and everyone wore flowers in their hair. We found love, sometimes as simple as splendor in the grass, and our trips were more often inner journeys, where psychadelic colors swirled around us, as we rode along in our mini bus. Life couldn’t be better. We were together, and what did it matter, if our clothes were a tatter.  And as the song went, ‘those were the days, my friend, we thought they’d never end…’

Fim: The Quiet Years

In my twenties, I was at University. My fondest memory was hanging out at the student union, exploring the philosophical realms with friends. I felt I could have spent the rest of my life, just sharing thoughts about all manner of things. I was no longer tribal, but, rather, beginning to walk a solitary path. My search was often ambiguous, but it suited me. Life was standing at crossroads, considering which way to go, and on some subconscious level, I might have known it didn’t matter, because no matter where you go, there you are! Plus, everything happens at the rate at which it happens; no faster, no slower. You get there, and then you move on.

Among other things, I was looking for love, though it was more, in all the wrong places, than not. And that was okay too. Because everything changes. The road took me out, and the road brought me back. I was finding myself. These years were filled with remnants of a past, and the promise of a still unknown future.

But I found a greater silence, soft in it’s embrace, calling me back when I would wander off on an aimless tangent. It was rather like goldfishing it; swiming out, floating back, being a leaf driven by the wind. I found I enjoyed solitude, where I could read, and think, and write, and allow myself to imagine things just beyond my reach.

My summers were spent in private retreat, even while within a dwelling where others sought similar interludes. My guides were the ‘birds and the bees, and the flowers, and the trees, and the moon up above, and a thing called love.’ Yet this love, was of a different kind, that flowed out into the Universe. It wasn’t singular, nor was it physical. It was global.

Fim: The Years of Definition

There is always a certain point where you know it’s time to really start paying attention.  I wasn’t quite there in my 30s. I still had wild – what ever it is women sow – and tried my hand at all manner of interesting almost careers. As I was reaching my 40s, there was a major transition from city living to dwelling in the more rural upstate New York. I’d been up here a few times, on those solitary retreats, and even continued some of my vacations in that vain after our move. But I was not apparently done with my lessons to learn. And we all know, that actually continues through out until our elder days grow dim.

So struggling with inner demons, I still managed to find my way toward a greater definition of my Earthwalk. There is a book which I think speaks greatly about the stuff of which I am made: “I Can Do Anything, If I Only Knew What It Was.”  Instead of taking that as a sign that maybe, just maybe, I should accept I’m nomadic, and pretty much find where I’m needed, I tried to find out that ‘what it was’ part. But a lot of  what I wanted to be, and what I actually was, but refused to see it, turned out to be inner work. My career was inventing myself, but I did have to find those Of Like Mind, in order to get that point.

Summers during that time were spent in learning about being part of Community. It was preparing me for being part of my own family; to become that half which when combined with Mr. Quantum, created a WHOLE. A whole lot of, I am still learning. It never stops.

The Summer of my life, was transitioning toward the Autumn of my life, while I was doing my ‘mating’ dance, not so much for the purpose of bring progeny into the world, but for helping me understand just how the circle of life works, and wends its way ever onward.

This summer, we’re taking a vacation. The last, which was our first as a couple, was  17 years ago, in an historic town in Eastern Texas. Jefferson is a place that I highly suggest anyone historically interested in how the west was one step away from remaining ever in the past, visit this quaint little place where steamboats came to port, and refused to allow the big metal horse in, to bring it roaring into centuries later.

Now summers will become, taking leisurely sojourns that will give us time out of time.

Happy Summer Solstice to all, and may yours bring you joy and abundance, as you harvest your own bounty.

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20 Comments (+add yours?)

  1. jabrush1213
    Jun 21, 2015 @ 17:48:27

    A true reflection of what summer is. Sometimes the weather gets too hot and there are complaints. But, there are many benefits that come with summer when the time comes around.

    Liked by 2 people

    Reply

  2. Walking My Path: Mindful Wanderings in Nature
    Jun 21, 2015 @ 17:57:58

    It’s nice knowing more of your life. I used to go to the Adirondacks. My best friend’s family had a place up there on a lake. Ah, the smell of balsam pine. I still have a little pillow stuffed with it. I think the decades are important…acknowledging what was important in each, what to keep, claim and let go of as you enter a new one. What the gifts of each are – the people and events that stand out, what you learned. Lucky me, I get to do that kind of ceremony with people professionally. I get to be outside and do therapy/ceremony at the same time. I love my life. It seems like you love yours. There were a lot of similarities – inner psychedelic trips, traveling in a vw van, wandering around trying to figure things out. Anyway, I enjoyed your post, friend.
    Mary

    Liked by 2 people

    Reply

    • Fimnora Westcaw
      Jun 21, 2015 @ 21:52:22

      Thank you, Mary!
      And oh my gosh! Balsam pillows! I have three I found among my mom’s things, that I’ve taken out and put on the couch in the living room, and found a fourth just a few days ago in a suit case, beneath one group of the million t-shirts I have. I think it might have saved everything from getting all yuk smelling. 🙂

      It’s true, as we have enough decades behind us, it’s a great way to really see how far we’ve come, or gone. Each moment regardless of what its felt like has added to what makes me the person I’ve become.

      I had this great ‘workbook’ once, called The Castle of the Pearl. I think I managed to write in 3 of them, at 3 different times in my life. I’d love to find them all and have a chance to recall what was going on then.

      Blogging has brought great benefit on that front. It’s like that saying, “The more you do, the more you can do.” Only substitute, “The more you remember, the more you can remember.” the process lends itself to opening doors, if even a slight bit.

      I have been working hard on ‘being in the moment’ so that helps me to find the love with where an who I am. Otherwise, there’s lots of slip sliding around.

      It’s always a pleasure to see you when you stop by. I enjoy our talks quite a lot!

      Blessed Be,

      Fim

      Liked by 1 person

      Reply

  3. platosgroove
    Jun 21, 2015 @ 18:33:09

    I enjoyed the telling of you in chapters. My favorite lines.
    “Plus, everything happens at the rate at which it happens; no faster, no slower. You get there, and then you move on.” I like this voice of yours.

    Liked by 4 people

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  4. calensariel
    Jun 21, 2015 @ 20:39:15

    I agree with Plato. You are finding a unique way to share what you’ve learned in your life. It’s so light for as heavy as some of it is that it draws people to see what exactly makes it so. I love this. ❤

    Liked by 2 people

    Reply

    • Fimnora Westcaw
      Jun 21, 2015 @ 22:06:08

      I like the way you put that – “It’s so light for as heavy as some of it is…” That’s SO cool! Because when I first began putting bits of myself into my blog, I held back those ‘telling’ parts, not because I didn’t want to show who I was, but because I thought they might be too … boring? or something like that. Then I started publishing those more serious parts, and it was accepted! *feeling like Sally Field here*

      Finding this world – happening upon it – has been one of the best things, and that is doubled by the fact that I’ve gotten to meet some amazing people, especially you! And have all these great little side talks. 🙂

      Liked by 1 person

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  5. julz
    Jun 21, 2015 @ 22:36:33

    somewhat in the same theme I did a short piece about “In the Summertime” by Mungo Jerry just now – I know you’re into music – so you might enjoy it – smile

    http://julzcrafts.com/2015/06/22/in-the-summertime-mungo-jerry-1970/

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply

  6. Lois Barrett Luke
    Jun 22, 2015 @ 00:32:42

    Wherever I travel, wherever I live, the better part of me always resides in upstate NY. 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply

  7. kim
    Jun 22, 2015 @ 03:37:02

    I like the way you accept each change and transition as part of a never-ending process. So often we search for a way to ‘arrive’. Instead there is this constant moving forward which can be hard to accept. Here you have described it so well. A wonderful solstice post. x

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply

  8. somemaid
    Jun 22, 2015 @ 15:30:01

    What a lovely post, I love the different ages of you. I liked the bit about how you never stop learning things about Mr Quantum and the grand adventure called life we’re all on.

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply

    • Fimnora Westcaw
      Jun 22, 2015 @ 18:23:08

      Thank you so much! It’s pretty interesting for me to look back and see the transitions. I think I wouldn’t have been able to see that a decade or two ago. One grand adventure at a time… 🙂

      Like

      Reply

  9. JoHanna Massey
    Mar 01, 2016 @ 09:07:42

    This is just such an excellent post. One of those ‘getting to know you’ essays that have me liking you very much, and reminding me to stay focused in the moment of living I am in. Thank you.

    Like

    Reply

  10. Fimnora Westcaw
    Mar 01, 2016 @ 13:00:04

    Thank you, JoHanna, for your very kind words, and also for bringing me back to something I’d written not quite a year ago. I don’t get back here often, because time just keeps going faster, and connections have gotten deeper. It’s good to revisit my own stories; get a refresher course on where I was then.

    Like

    Reply

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