Summer in a Day

There's a short film based on Ray Bradbury's story "All Summer in a Day" that was done in the early 80s. In the story, children who live on a rainy, essentially sunless planet experience the sun for a few remarkable minutes.

I think of this film every year when spring turns warm. Everyone seizes the first sunny day as if there will never be another day like it. People pour out of houses into yards or parks or hop onto bikes or motorcycles. It's inevitably noisy with power tools and vehicle motors. Shouting children. Sizzling grills. There is a smell of grass. The sun is wide. Kites are flown for the first time.

Today was abundant in that way. After breakfast, the kids and I went full force in the garden. Weeding, planting, surveying. There was sunscreen and shorts. Sam-the-Dog (happy to have lived to another spring) stayed in the shade. We hoisted out the deck umbrella. Terra cotta pots. Swept. Arranged. I straightened up my plants like lining children up for a photo. Welcoming summer into our backyard is a tradition for me and my family.

Lunch was chicken sandwiches, pickles, chips and cookies on the deck. We moved to the front yard. The kids rode their bikes. Drew chalky figures on the driveway.

On a day like this nothing can keep me inside. We tried some downtime but after supper rode our bikes on a trail and then ate dipped cones before it turned dark. Driving back I noticed Matt's skin was multicolored: brown (both dirt and chocolate), green (grass stain), red (blood from a first summer skinned knee), as well as a variety of pastels (chalk). 

To many more days of summer.