It's summer. Officially we have five more days to go, but according to me, it's summer.
Brandon and I have a long-running friendly dispute about summer versus winter. He likes winter. I like summer. Brandon has his reasons - he grew up spending summer doing endless outdoor chores in the hot sun. I grew up spending every singe day at the pool with a break for going to the beach. So I can see both sides of the argument.
But I still love summer, even if he doesn't.
Friday night Brandon and I went out to dinner for his birthday. I suggested one restaurant that was defunct, so we tried option two, in a newly opened park overlooking the city and the Caspian. The view was wonderful, but the restaurant ended up being a tea house.
We were near the bulvar so we started walking to option number three. We strolled past couples and through groves in the cooling evening. Everyone was out, enjoying a summer promenade. As we went to cross a road, I looked left and saw Chinar. Plans changed and we had Chinese for dinner.
As we drove home, full of overpriced (but very hip) food, the sun was just setting over the city. The light turned even the old soviet apartments to gold. The wind tangled my hair through open car windows and the green trees lined our road home. Cold, dark, hurrying winter was a lifetime away, banished by the slowly setting summer sun.
Yesterday when we woke up, the air smelled hot. If Brandon was going to mow the lawn or pick rocks, the air would have smelled of misery. Instead, we were going swimming and the air smelled of a perfect summer Saturday morning. The children peeled off their flip-flops and cover-ups, begging to jump into the beckoning blue water and the promise of cool relief.
We swam and sunned ourselves on the baking stones to warm up and swam again to cool off. Edwin watered his car and filled buckets and begged to be dipped until our arms ached. Kathleen and Sophia swam from ladder to ladder entertaining us with their swim show. Joseph tried to lean far enough over the water to give Brandon a heart attack. We got hot and swam the heat off. I baked myself in the buttery warm sunshine, roasting the last dark bit of winter out of my soul.
Today I grilled hamburgers. The smell of charcoal drifted through the open kitchen door. Our zucchini and eggplants had stripes, and only the sound of lawnmowers was missing.
In a few months, summer will have overstayed its welcome. Fall will come with its own delights. But for now, it's summer and I love it.