the wild call of summer

Where has the time gone? It seems to me that it was only yesterday when the wild call of summer came knocking on the door, now it is passing us like a sprinting pony and all I can do is try to hold on without quivering or crying at the thought of this warm hug of a season leaving me. I had plans, I had dreams, I had a lot to say in the months of June, July and August but mostly, I simply moved through the days and now I am here, sitting beside the climbing sweet peas, knowing one day they will be no more, but doing what I can to remember how good it is when they are here. I guess this is what happens when you make an album or take a dream from your head and try to make it into something you can hold. You spend so much time sitting on the stoop thinking about it, wondering if it is good, if it is worthy, if it is the best you can do. Art is a strange thing and nothing swallows time quite like over-thinking.

I traveled in July. I recorded in August. I wish I could say I swam more and how I tasted every type of edible berry that grows in our backyard, but I cannot seem to recall where the time has gone. Perhaps it is there, hidden in these songs and in the growing snapdragons that line the backyard fence. There will be other summers, other creeks to dip into, but there will never be another time for me to say "I recorded my very first album."

This is it. This the mark of my summer. What a surreal joy. What a strange emotion it is to think of your twelve year old little self so many moons ago, how she thirsted for such an occasion, how sometimes along the way you forgot it was even possible to dream, but dream you did, even when it seemed like you had already lost the bet. It is the dreaming that brought you here.

There is something about the tall grass that says hold on.

I hope you have been well.