Recalling summer’s joys and woes

Remembering summer . . . and reconnecting with a friend from another lifetime – the teenage years – and being transported back to those carefree days, through anecdote and laughter.

Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? – not this summer anyway. Thou art more lovely and more temperate – yeah, right! Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May (or January).

And summer’s lease has all too short a date.

Well, summer’s lease has certainly had far too short a date this festive season. What a fizzer of a summer it has been so far.

I’ve at least had the comfort of a warm, dry home in which to shelter from the monotonous rain and the omnipresent wind.

I’ve not had to contend with wet canvas, wet bedding, wet clothing, bored children, frayed tempers and dashed expectations.

I pity all those holidaymakers who came to the sunshine capital of New Zealand, hoping for a wonderful break and had to not only endure the desperate weather, but also had to pay for that dubious privilege.

Some might say the omens were not good for a fantastic summer.

There was massive flooding in the region the week before Christmas; yet another terrifying earthquake in Canterbury two days before Christmas.

And those poor buggers from Canterbury, who came to Nelson hoping for some respite, had to endure more of nature’s wrath in yet more flooding, washing away a good deal more than holiday hopes and dreams.

But despite King Sol’s seeming inability to attain and maintain dominion over the skies, there were plenty of good things to remember about my 2011-12 summer holidays.

And thank goodness, I’ve been lucky enough to have long break. It’s always a delight to walk out of the office preChristmas, shut the door behind you and feel that frisson of anticipation for the long, sunny days ahead.

The feeling is but a pale imitation of the sheer unadulterated joy of running home from primary school on the last day of the year but it’s still there.

Remembering summer . . . and a delicious Christmas dinner, lovingly prepared by many, under the shade of a silk tree on one of this summer’s few true golden days.

Remembering summer . . . and the pleasure of reuniting with a sister returned for a holiday from aid work overseas.

Remembering summer . . . and staying in bed while the rain teemed outside, devouring a Christmas book.

Remembering summer . . . and reconnecting with a friend from another lifetime – the teenage years – and being transported back to those carefree days, through anecdote and laughter.

Remembering summer . . . and the fascination of poking about the Waimea Estuary in an aluminium boat.

Remembering summer . . . and the delight on a boy’s face as he showed the haul from a morning’s fishing . . . enough kawhai to feed the extended whanau.

Remembering summer . . . and savouring the culinary delights from the new smoker.

Remembering summer . . . and delighting in a new swimming hole up the Lee Valley after our favourite spot up the Aniseed was no longer accessible.

Remembering summer . . . and teenage boys’ obsession with backyard cricket; the lawn in front of the wickets rubbed bare and the bowlers’ run-up reduced to a patchwork of earth and struggling grass.

Remembering summer . . . and teenage boys’ commentary – ‘‘this is what the fans have come to see’’ – on their own shots, strokes, spinners, seamers and quicks.

Remembering summer . . . and seeing in the New Year at a small music festival, with brazier, fireworks, private memories, public embraces and Auld Lang Syne.

Remembering summer . . . and being saddened by the state of Rabbit Island, with contaminated water forcing the closure of so many of its picnic areas.

Remembering summer . . . and being gladdened by the newly formed but already well-used cycle trail on Rabbit Island.

Remembering summer . . . and ruing the fact I’ve not yet leapt (well, clambered more accurately) off the Rocks Rd steps into the sea.

Remembering summer . . . and the easy pleasure of a dinner out with family and friends to mark another birthday.

Remembering summer . . . and the cacophony of a crowded aqua centre on a miserable day.

Remembering summer . . . and negotiating and surviving the running maul of the queue to purchase a movie ticket on (yet another) miserable day.

Remembering summer . . . and the listening pleasure to be had from Phil and Simon on Radio New Zealand’s Matinee Idol.

Remembering summer . . . and being gladdened by the sight of three young lads kayaking off Ruby Bay, their voices and laughter rolling in on the waves.

Remembering summer . . . and the simple pleasures of skimming stones, constructing a driftwood house and floating on your back, arms akimbo, in the sea.

Remembering summer . . . and farewelling a beloved girl and her dear friend on their gap-year adventure.

Remembering summer . . . and feeling the sadness, the pride, the heartache and the excitement of that farewell.

Remembering summer . . . and finding it hard to comprehend where the years have gone since her first day at primary school.

Remembering summer . . . and feeling deep gratitude for her presence in my life.

Remembering summer . . . and being very grateful for Skype – a far cry from the handwritten letters of yesteryear.

Remembering summer . . . and experiencing the space, the gap, the absence created by her departure.

Remembering summer . . . and being deeply grateful that my life and the lives of those I love have not been touched by tragedy this season.

Remembering summer . . . and feeling deeply grateful I’ve a satisfying job to return to, now the carefree days are over.