Sunday the 7th of August felt like the first real day of summer here. A bright morning, followed by a glorious afternoon. Blue skies untroubled by clouds, save for some fluffy white ones floating high above on a gentle breeze. Gone was the grey, the humidity, and the oppressive temperatures of recent weeks. This was what a summer day should look like, and feel like too. No threat of rain, no ‘chance of showers later’ from the weatherman. Just a warm day, with hot sun out of the shade, and a blissful breeze by the riverbank.
This was the summer day of picnics, digging in the sand at the beach, queuing for ice creams from the van. On days like this, the sea looks blue, the grass even greener, and the shadows are short and sharp. On days like this, you want to sit in the garden with a beer, fire up the barbecue, or just rest on a park bench and watch the world go by. Bees buzz around, birds flap in the trees, and the ground feels hard and warm underfoot.
For Ollie, it was a day much like any other. He has no expectations, no disappointments. He is untroubled by rain, and unimpressed by sun. Just being out is enough for our faithful dog. He ran around as usual, took a dip in the river when he felt like it, and carried on just the same as if there had been a blizzard outside. He might pant a little harder, make river stops more frequently, but he is unaware of the seasons, it appears. To him, out is out, and that’s the end of it.
But for me, this is the sort of day you wait all year for. This is how summers felt in my youth, how children draw a day in summer in their books, and what a photo of a real summer should look like.
It might not last, but at least we had today.