To be oo-de-lallying through the summer woods right now…
And the summer always seems to be as short as that song.
Someone told me once that the winter solstice (Dec. 21) was given such import by early people in the north because it was a psychological way of dealing with the darkness: after winter solstice the days do naught but get gradually longer - with every passing day. You know they are even when it doesn’t appear so. It's a good handle to have.
It's good especially for those who sicken of winter, like me, when it has only just arrived. The sun's trajectory rises higher and higher through the winter, which is the winter's death knell. We don't get much snow on the coast, but when we do I welcome it. The cold and cloudy skies and rain also find welcome, but the perpetuity of it gets to me quickly. I have to admit I am a summer man.
Some would say that every person is a summer person, but that's not so. Many find the heat gets to them just as quickly as the winter gets to me. They want a San Francisco climate. But I love the heat, and when it turns to a mighty heat-wave I'm not bothered. I'm not one of those tan-sporting beach-party summer guys, but give me my bike and sandals and backpack, free-wheeling it to the woods, or any other numerable such things, and I'm set.