If you asked me to list my reasons to love summertime, I could probably fill a notebook. Living here in Connecticut, I’ve always looked forward to those first warm days when the windows open, the birds start singing, and life seems to move outdoors again. Summer has always felt like home to me.
But I don’t think I love summer just because of the weather.
I think I love it because it reminds me of growing up.
My Favorite Reasons to Love Summertime as a Kid
When I was a kid in the 1970s-1980s, summer vacation felt endless.
I’d spread a blanket under the big tree in our backyard with a stack of library books and a crossword puzzle book. I’d stay out there for hours, completely happy with a good story, a pencil, and the breeze rustling the leaves overhead.
Every once in a while I’d hear music drifting over from the driveway where my brothers were working on their cars. Looking back, I don’t remember exactly what songs they were playing. I think Donnie was playing the latest Queen album at the time and Gary was listening to some southern rock. I just remember that sound becoming part of summer itself.
Some memories stay with you forever because of how they made you feel.
Dad’s Garden
My dad loved his garden.
Every summer he’d grow tomatoes, string beans, radishes, and whatever else caught his interest that year. There was always something ready to be picked.
As a kid, I probably took it for granted.
Now, every time I slice into a perfectly ripe summer tomato or cook fresh green beans, I think about him. I think about our family garden. Funny how the little things become the memories you treasure the most.
The Summer We Got a Pool
When I was in junior high (we now say “middle school”), my parents had an inground pool installed.
To us, it wasn’t just a pool.
It was our own little vacation spot.
Friends came over almost every day. Towels were draped across lawn chairs. We’d spend hours swimming until our fingers were wrinkled and our hair smelled like chlorine.
Back then, those warm summer days seemed to last forever.
The Swing Set That Defied Gravity
There was a metal swing set in our backyard that probably got more use than anything else we owned.
My goal wasn’t just to swing.
It was to see how high I could go.
My 2 sisters and I were convinced we could swing high enough to touch the sky, and more than once we swung so high the legs of the swing set actually started lifting out of the ground. Looking back, I’m amazed my parents didn’t have a heart attack watching us. Somehow, it all seemed perfectly normal back then.
Summer afternoons were made for swinging in that summer sunshine until your legs were tired and your hair was blowing behind you.
A Tan That Lasted Until School Started
I was that kid with the really dark summer tan.
My dad’s American Indian heritage definitely had something to do with that. It didn’t take much for me to turn a deep golden brown, and I loved every minute of being outside.
These days I’m much better about sunscreen than I was back then, but I still smile whenever I catch that first little bit of summer color.
The Best Neighborhood to Grow Up In
We lived on a dead-end street, and it couldn’t have been a better place to grow up.
We rode our bikes from house to house (I loved my banana seat bike!), played hopscotch in the driveways, jumped Chinese jump rope until our legs were tired, and spent the day wherever our friends happened to be.
There weren’t any cell phones, no one worried about texting to check in, and somehow every parent on the street seemed to know exactly where all the kids were anyway.
Our parents simply told us to be home when the streetlights came on.
And somehow…we always were.
I sometimes wonder if kids today know what that kind of freedom felt like.
The Games We Played
Kids today have video games and phones.
We had driveways, bicycles, and our imaginations.
Hopscotch. Chinese jump rope. Kickball. Tag.
And then there were Jarts.
If you remember Jarts, you probably just laughed a little.
They looked innocent enough sitting in the box, but once someone threw one, it became a flying missile with a metal point. It’s no surprise they were eventually banned after so many people got hurt. Looking back, it’s amazing any of us survived some of the games we played!
But somehow, those afternoons are some of my happiest memories.
Hide-and-Seek After Dark
Some of my favorite memories happened after the sun went down. Those summer evenings were magical.
When cousins came to visit, we’d all head outside for hide-and-seek in the dark. I think the name of the game has changed over the years – “Tag” or “Manhunt.”
The goal was to make it back to the back stoop without getting tagged.
I had my favorite hiding place tucked beside the stone wall near my dad’s garden, just outside the reach of the backyard spotlight. It felt like the perfect hiding spot.
My brothers, on the other hand, usually climbed up onto the roof.
Of course they did.
I still have no idea how they managed that, but somehow nobody questioned it. That’s just the way things were.
Those warm summer nights seemed to go on forever.
My Matante Louise
One of my favorite places was right next door.
My great-aunt Louise lived there, although everyone called her Matante Louise. She was my Pepere’s sister. My Dad’s aunt. She was a hoot!
Sometimes I’d go over just to spend time with her. She’d paint my toenails while we talked about everyday things that probably seemed unimportant at the time.
Years later, when she passed away, I remember walking into the church for her funeral and noticing my older relatives quietly looking at me.
It wasn’t until much later that I realized why.
They weren’t just seeing me.
They were seeing a young Louise.
I’ve been told more than once that I looked just like her when she was my age, and somehow that realization made me feel even more connected to her.
Mom’s Spaghetti Didn’t Take the Summer Off
Some meals don’t belong to a season.
Even when it was ninety degrees outside, Mom still made her homemade spaghetti with sauce.
We’d all sit around the kitchen table with the fans blowing full blast, happily eating steaming bowls of pasta without giving the weather a second thought.
It was our favorite meal, and none of us cared that it wasn’t exactly “summer food.”
Honestly, I still think of those dinners every time I make spaghetti.
Bare Feet and Mom’s Aloe Plant
I don’t think I wore shoes unless someone made me.
All summer long I’d run barefoot through the grass without a second thought.
Every now and then I’d step on a bee.
It hurt.
I’d cry for a few minutes.
I would run inside and Mom would cut off a piece of her aloe vera plant, split it open, and rub the cool gel on the sting. She used that same plant for mosquito bites, scrapes, and just about every little summer “boo-boo” we came home with.
Then, before long…
I’d be running around barefoot again like nothing had happened.
Some lessons you just had to learn over and over.
The Little Things I Love Now
Summer looks a little different these days.
I’m not riding my bike around the neighborhood anymore, but I still find joy in the simple things.
Morning coffee outside before the day gets busy.
Fresh sweet corn.
Tomatoes that actually taste like tomatoes.
A backyard cookout with family.
Grilling dinner instead of heating up the kitchen.
Watching the dog enjoy the yard while the sun starts to set.
These days, summer feels a little slower, and I appreciate that more than I ever did when I was younger.
Summer Will Always Feel Like Home
Every season has something wonderful to offer.
Autumn brings beautiful leaves.
Winter gives us the holidays.
Spring reminds us that everything blooms again.
But summer…
Summer has my heart.
Maybe it’s the warmth.
Maybe it’s the food.
Maybe it’s the memories.
Or maybe it’s because every summer reminds me of the people who helped shape my life: my parents tending the garden, my brothers working on their cars, playing all sorts of games with my sisters, my friends racing around the neighborhood, and Matante Louise painting my toenails next door.
Those moments seemed ordinary back then.
Now I realize they were the moments that made my childhood extraordinary.
As another Connecticut summer rolls along, I’ll happily soak up the sunshine, grill dinner outside, enjoy every ear of sweet corn I can find, and thank God for the memories that come rushing back with every warm breeze.
Some seasons come and go.
Summer somehow always feels like coming home.
Every warm breeze, every ripe tomato, every laugh around the picnic table, and every quiet morning with a cup of coffee reminds me that God’s greatest gifts are often found in the ordinary moments. Summer simply helps me notice them a little more.
