Sunday Substack, Summer-Wise, 25.4

In the Garden, From the Archives, Worn While Walking, In the Sketchbook, On the Water . . .

We’ve slowed down for the weekend, catching our breath after the spate of family activity I mentioned in that Midweek post. (Paul’s birthday dinner at our daughter’s, an evening of Theatre Under the Stars with three granddaughters, grandson having opted out at the last minute.)

Summer, from the Archives. . .

And slowing down a bit, I have time to note the switch from July to August, the move into another month, the last half of summer . . . As I move from 70 to 75, I’m increasingly aware of summer as a marker of activities I no longer do, or ones that I may not manage in the future.

Some nostalgia or even melancholy about this, but also more reason to treasure the happiness this summer offers, now. I wrote a few posts about that a couple of years ago. This one compared my summers since we’ve moved to the city with those of my seaside summers on the small island where we used to live. In this post, I followed a podcaster’s advice to collect the little moments of happiness that also make up a summer.

Summer, In the Garden . . .

A sweet surprise this past week, to spot these two late-to-the-party blossoms on the apple tree, amid their dozens of older siblings. . .

even as the Hakonechloa macra (Japanese forest grass) signals the lateness of the season by throwing up its graceful, airy inflorescences . . .

which, to me, emphasize its resemblance to a cascading waterfall . . .

adding to the verdant flow of the leaves

an impression of spray,

of splashing water droplets. . .

Summer Activities

And speaking of water. . . .

Paul paddles almost year-round, but I’m a fair-weather kayaker. And since we were travelling so much last year, I don’t remember getting out at all. So that I had to overcome inertia again — and, by inertia, I mean the regular doubts and fear that creep in about things like getting myself down a steep-ish, slippery boat ramp and coaxing a cranky hip to lower me into a narrow cockpit. Despite having done all these things often in the past. . . Sigh. Sometimes I find myself so frustrating! ;-)

But I did it, and you can paddle vicariously with me through Vancouver’s False Creek by clicking that link to my IG.

I can’t remember if I included this photo in that post or not . . .

I took it with the idea that, while I could hardly sketch comfortably from the kayak, I’d try to add a gull or two to my journal entry for the day.

Summer Sketching . . .

The head/bust to the left, bottom of the right-hand page gets closest to what I want, I think, and perhaps if I try another 25 iterations of that gull . . . .

Sometimes, as in the photo below, I sketch in our rooftop garden in the morning. As in the Rain Garden sketch included in last Sunday’s newsletter, this journal entry was a response to Lucia Leyfield’s garden-sketching course.

My focus was on keeping the sketch loose while still managing to indicate abundance and also some distinctions between plants. Whether or not I achieved that (I’m pleased enough), I think it’s worth repeating what I noted on that top RH corner, “So helpfully meditative to sketch this.”

Or, as another artist/instructor, Koosje Koene says, regularly, “Life is better when you draw it.”

Below, having tucked a small notebook, a tiny fountain pen (with water-soluble ink), and a water brush in my pockets, I stopped at Granville Island to sketch. . . .

The photo also gives you a peek at What I Wore which lets me segue right into

Summer OOTDs. . .

Just two today,

both of the sneakers-and-dress variety. . .

Perfect for making videos of shadows, blowing in the wind. . . because clothing is so much more than what we can see, flattened and stilled, in a mirror.

And the video lets me segue smoothly again, this time right into

Summer Walking . . .

because that’s what I wore the dress-and-sneakers combos for . . . and the way I got myself to these views of the neighbourhood. . .

Sunday morning now, and I’d hoped to have posted this last night so that readers in other time zones might have it on their Sunday morning. But we had a dinner date that we walked to and from, for a total of 9.5 kilometres and I was too tired to write anymore when we got home. Please forgive me.

Now it’s your turn. If you’re too shy to comment, clicking on that little heart is a good way to let me know that you enjoyed something about the post. But otherwise, perhaps you’d like to share what you’re noticing about the way summer’s changing as August takes over from July. Or whenever that shift happens where you live. . . Ways that summer has changed for you in the last five or ten years. . . Perhaps just share something you did this last week that signified summer in a way that was ordinary and special all at once.

Or anything you’d care to add to the conversation (I’m assuming you’re all thoughtful and polite enough). Or just wave and smile in this direction.

Thank you for reading,

xo,

f