I work in academia, so from early May until mid-August I don’t have many externally scheduled activities. The aspect of summer that I love is the same characteristic that I hate: large expanses of unscheduled time.
I love the sense of possibilities. I love the sense that I could do start any project however time-consuming or quixotic. I love the sense that there is enough time to read the newspaper at my leisure before having to rush off anywhere. On the 11th , when this picture was taken, I made a second cup of coffee and took both dog and newspaper across the road and up the hill to the picnic table on the property belonging to a the Cricket Cave Collective. Its members live in far off places such as Washington DC and come but once or twice a year to picnic and visit their cave. I trespass freely, feeling myself almost to be a sort of caretaker. The cave entrance is very visible in certain types of weather because steam pours out of the hole, though it vanishes mysteriously in photographs as if it were the inverse of a ghost which appears mysteriously in a photograph. At one gathering, I climbed up the hill and introduced myself. They showed me a map of the cave and asked if I wanted to enter what looked like a labyrinth. “No, thank you,” I said. No way will I voluntary squeeze myself into that tiny opening for the prospect of finding my claustrophobic self underground even though I can (usually) make mind prevail over matter when entering underground parking garages that are, of course, subject to collapse at any moment. Or perhaps it’s a question of making matter prevail over the mind that creates those images.
I also hate all that unscheduled time. It doesn’t take long to feel that I am moldering away, sinking into a humid nap, whiling away those long, lazy days…and ultimately wasting, of course. The objective reality of what I actually do between 5 AM and 10 PM is irrelevant, does not banish the feeling. I think it’s the interaction with the outside world that is missing. One day recently I was mourning the end of a wasted day. If anyone asked me what I had done, I probably would have answered “nothing.” I idly made a mental list and found that I had written two papers for a course I am taking, weeded the garden, walked the dog, read the newspaper, reorganized the laundry room while doing the laundry, made jam, called my brother, taken and edited photographs, driven T. to band practice, gone to the library, had the oil changed in the car, cooked dinner, watched a movie and started making a blue jean quilt. A list like that surely reflects a full day, but I kid you not that, even after I made the list, I felt as though I had done nothing at all. It’s fascinating to think about how much I love, crave and maybe even need interaction with other people.
Be these things as they may, another wonderful feature of summer is drinking coffee outside with the newspaper while the dog munches on grass and listens carefully to all the sounds in the woods.
Nice job fitting the photo to the tale. Sounds like the way my days go when the work hours are reduced. Trying to find value in accomplishing what seems to be insignificant; maybe it's ok to just "be."
It looks a lovely spot to drink a cup of coffee and read :) I'm completely opposite to you - I like to be on my own and choose not to interact with people mostly!
July 25th, 2015
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