The Sounds of Summer

When I was a teenager, I was sure that my mom was crazy. No matter the day she was always the first person up and about in our house. Even on Saturdays … even on long weekends … even in the summer. Gasp! I mean who in their right mind would waste a carefree Saturday that way? Sleep, woman! Get some rest! I know you’re tired! You never stop moving and picking up and putting away and doing! Stay. In. Bed!

We never really talked about it because I was a teenager and therefore knew everything. She was wrong (and crazy), and I was right (and well-rested to boot). End of story.

Fast forward a few much-too-quick decades, and I am 42. I am married with three kids. I work a grown-up job and am often accused of always moving, always picking up, always putting away and doing all the things. And I am also awake this Saturday morning a solid hour before my alarm and at least that amount before my family. Again. It’s become a thing. A habit I didn’t really choose, and that for a time I didn’t really like.

I am now, like my mom, an early riser. And as much as I’d like to sleep in and feel gloriously lazy, these quiet mornings are the only time, I really get to experience one of the most elusive parts of summer.

I could have laid in bed for a while. I could have picked up the novel I’m re-reading, but if I had I wouldn’t have been able to sit on the porch this morning outside an amazingly quiet home listening to the sounds of summer. While the rest of my family sleeps, one million birds sing a chorus in the trees just for me. The wind whispers to me. A tiny bug buzzes past my head. Squirrels chitter in the trees at one another.

There are too many days in the winter when outside is completely still. No signs of life at all, but in the summer, my yard bursts with the only noise that you can only hear in the quiet of the morning.

And it is beautiful.

I may grumble as I realize just how early it is, but once I hear the choir of nature outside my door, I hop up and rush to fill my favorite coffee cup so I can take my place outside and revel in it.

Okay … I know that sounds odd. Rushing out of bed much-too-early just to listen to the birds who really do sing all day, but I only get these few precious moments to enjoy them in the stillness of the day. And my husband shakes his head at me. My kids think I’m crazy.

Maybe being an early riser is a sign that I am getting older.

Maybe it’s genetic.

Or maybe I’m like my crazy mom, and it just took me a while to learn the secret to one of the best concerts nature has to offer.

Maybe it’s all of them … either way I’ve gotta run. I’ve got hot coffee waiting and free tickets to the show.

Happy Summer.