Storing Up Summer

Collecting beauty

Out in our backyard, something is afoot. As I walk along our flagstone path, tiny bits of walnut shells dig into my bare feet and walnut pieces stain the gray stone. The squirrels have been busy. I’ve never seen so much activity in late August. I wonder if they know something I don’t.

It reminds me of a children’s book I used to read to my daughters: Frederick by Leo Lionni. In it, a family of field mice is preparing for the cold winter. Knowing that food will be scarce, they busy themselves gathering nuts and grains to store for the upcoming dormant season. One of them, Frederick, seems to be doing nothing. He sits and daydreams. He looks around him, observing. The other mice complain, wondering why he isn’t actively contributing to the gathering and storing. Frederick tells them that he is working. Instead of seeds, he’s gathering colors. Instead of nuts, he’s collecting the last rays of summer sun. Instead of grains, he’s collecting words. Later, in the middle of winter, when the stores are running out and the mice get cold, Frederick brings out those things he has saved. He spins stories and images that take the mice family to other realms and helps them to live through the hardships of winter. And they finally realize the value of his contributions.

As late summer unfolds and September looms around the corner, I’m following Frederick’s lead. As I take my daily walk at OxBow Park, I soak in the warm rays of sun shining down from the sky. I store away the sparkling yellows of the downy sunflower, the bright purple of loosestrife, the orange tinge of mature grasses, the varied greens of moss, cattails, leaves and duckweed. I take in the lovely patterns of butterflies as they flit, then land. I collect the late summer smells of trees as they give up their nuts, their leaves slowly curling and hinting at change. I absorb the light that reflects off the water, the songs of cicadas and crickets, the feel of warm air against my skin. These last days of August are meant for collectors like me.

Sometimes, I too become caught up in that last frantic push to get everything done. There’s canning to do, a garden to clean, a last outside project to complete and good weather to do it all. And then I remind myself of Frederick the mouse. There are other ways to be. Ways that just require me to slow down, take notice of what’s around me and soak in each detail of summer’s passing. This time right here is what I have. I’ll revel in each still blooming flower, in the late August light filtering through the trees, in the beauty of the grasses as they sway on the breeze. And when the ground becomes covered with snow, I’ll carry these things in my heart.