Tag Archives: Gratitude

Fall’s first day

A single crimson leaf stared at me last week while I was doing yoga on the patio, looming as it were. Oh, the grass is summer green and most of the leaves, too, but this one staked out its territory in a showy way.

It’s the Autumn Equinox today when the sun is exactly over the Earth’s equator as it moves from north to south. The first day of autumn is welcomed by some, but more me it only signals a slow slog into darkness and cold.

Autumn has some bright spots, though. Like the colorful leaves.

There’s soup and apples and big buttery squash. Football and the World Series. Crisp mornings and temperate evenings. Cozy sweaters and cute boots.

Here’s to autumn.

Like steps of passing ghosts,
The leaves, frost-crisp’d, break from the trees
And fall …

~ Adelaide Crapsey

Keeping summer in my pocket for later

The subject of savoring summer has gotten me by, blogwise, for a whole season, so I’m not going to let it go easily.

Like sands through the hourglass, so are the last days of summer. Here’s how I spent them.

September 2: Play hopscotch.

My granddaughter and I played a game of hopscotch.

September 6:Wear shorts and sandals.

Though I accomplished this feat many days, my Beloved captured this image of me in shorts (you’ll have to trust me on the sandals) as we waited for our brunch at a lakeside bar, overlooking Lily Lake.

September 7: Watch (or listen to) a baseball game.

I was pleased to discover how easy it was to listen to the Twins on Sirius XM on my television (bluetooth is a modern luxury). The Twins won.

September 7: Attend a backyard barbecue.

With the baseball game playing in the background, I enjoyed a backyard barbecue of my own making on Labor Day. My parents were paying us a visit, so my Beloved grilled bratwurst on the grill. It was pleasant until the hornets took over. Later, my mother observed that it was appropriate; it wouldn’t be a picnic without an insect intrusion.

I considered Labor Day to be the day this summer to “take a day off.” I didn’t do anything but make coleslaw (and evade hornets). No official picture, but I crossed that and a number of other items off my list without a pic: Walk through rain puddles, read a book outdoors, sunbathe, chase a monarch butterfly, and pay attention to crickets. Documentation or no, I didn’t do everything I set out to do to savor summer. But I did a lot of things, including some activities I never would have accomplished without making the list (arrange a bouquet, buy meat from the source, enjoy sunflowers, to name a few). In this pandemic season, I managed to savor some of the best things about summer.

By Minnesota Transplant’s calendar, summer is kaput, but technically, it’s still summer until September 22.

Summer has currency.

“Summer is, in so many ways, a state of mind that we can carry within us as we head into the darker days ahead.”

So say California Psychics in my Capricorn Daily Focus.

I enjoyed corn on the cob yesterday. I did yoga on my puddle-bedecked patio this morning. I ate green tomatoes for breakfast. I picked a bushel of fresh tomatoes from my garden this afternoon. So even though I believe in my heart that it’s autumn, I’m still savoring summer so I can carry these sunshine-filled moments with me into the darker days ahead.

One week left in the summer countdown

For some kids, summer ended the day before school started, whether school was in-person or virtual. For some folks, today marks the end of summer, it being the last day of August. And for some sticklers, summer officially ends September 21, the day before the autumnal equinox.

But if you’ve been paying attention to Minnesota Transplant at all this year, you know we’re got a single precious week of summer left. The season ends when the sun sets on Labor Day next Monday.

I won’t accomplish everything on my Savor Summer list, thanks to COVID-19. No county fair in its right mind is occurring this year, for example, and I missed whatever parades might have had to guts to, well, parade. And I haven’t found a stock car race to attend.

But sometimes, we must make fun where we find it.

June 10: Visit a sculpture garden.

Like in my parents’ driveway, where I admired Mom’s sculpture garden. She likes finding pretty glassware at garage sales and gluing the pieces together. A row of found-object sculptures line the asphalt.

June 27: Eat a hotdog (preferably a Chicago dog).

Do you know what makes a hotdog a Chicago dog? The wiener is topped with yellow mustard, chopped white onions, pickle relish, a dill pickle spear, tomato slices and pickled sport peppers and a dash of celery salt. Nay, lassie, no ketchup. I savored a Chicago dog at the iconic Richmond Dog N Suds Drive In restaurant, only open April through September (suds refers to the root beer, not alcoholic beer). Around since 1963, this is a great destination in the age of social distancing because you can dine in your car, served by car hops. (The ice cream is yummy, too.)

June 24: Admire lilies.

I’ve already admired lilies once in my own yard, but these beauties outside a local business mesmerized me.

July 28: Watch the sun rise.

Fortunately or unfortunately, I woke up early enough to catch the sunrise after spending a night in the hospital with my Beloved (he endured an elective surgery, and yes, it was a success and he’s on the mend).

August 8: Eat a fresh tomato.

The tomatoes in my Beloved’s garden have been prolific this year. One of the varieties is a heritage cherry tomato with a lovely verigated green and red skin.

August 16: Make gazpacho.

With the tomato bounty, I made cold tomato soup (my version is always topped with a couple of shrimp) and served it with chicken salad.

August 18: Listen to children playing outside.

When school is in session, this playground is overrun with screaming children. This picture lacks to giggles I enjoyed through our hedge when a couple of kids stopped by what has become a bit of a ghost town in the pandemic.

August 22: Watch the sun set.

A weekend at the lake isn’t complete without a sunset. We spent a couple of days in the Wisconsin Dells where I captured this image of the sun setting on the marina.

August 27: Take a twilight walk.

An evening meeting at the church nearby (the one I attend, not the one I live in) gave me the opportunity to enjoy the moon rising over the neighbor’s house.

August 29: Enjoy sunflowers.

One of the best things I did this summer was to visit a sunflower farm. I didn’t even know this was a thing, but thanks to Facebook and Instagram, it is. I cut an enormous bouquet to adorn the table for my anniversary with my Beloved, and my husband’s uncle brought his camera along and captured some great pictures. It was a glorious sunshine-filled day, and I’m going to bask in the glow for ages.

Grazing my way through summer

Digging deep into the Netflix queue, my Beloved and I stumbled on No Tomorrow, a dramedy about a straitjacketed warehouse worker who is introduced to all kinds of crazy new experiences by an end-of-days crackpot with a bucket list. His list reminded me a little of my own Summer 2020 bucket list. Only crackpots keep lists? Maybe so. I’ve crossed about half the things off the 108-item list, so I’m on track, even if it’s a crazy track.

2020.06.24 ice cream cone

June 24: Eat an ice cream cone.

Cattle & Cream is sweet little market in Cherry Valley, Illinois, near where my mother-in-law resides. The store includes a butcher shop and an ice cream shop, thus the clever name, a vivid reminder that ribeye and fudge ripple come from the same animal. The three of us enjoyed pistachio nut, chocolate and coconut almond bliss ice cream cones. These were single scoops! What a value!

2020.06.25 coconut

June 25: Use coconut sunscreen

Speaking of coconut, I crossed an item off the Scents of Summer section of my list when my Beloved and I went boating, and I dug this bottle out the cuddy. Smelled just like summer.

2020.06.25 ponytail

June 25: Wear a ponytail and baseball cap.

On the same boat outing, I kept my hair out of my eyes with a summery hairstyle.

2020.06.27

June 27: Go to a sidewalk sale.

One might think a sidewalk sale would be hard to find in a pandemic, but I believe they are probably safer to shop than an indoor venue. I found a salad spinner at the Pampered Chef vendor at this parking lot bazaar.

2020.07.12 yard sale

June 27: Shop a garage sale.

2020.07.12 tulipsA few weeks later, I found another outdoor shopping opportunity at a yard sale down the street. It was advertised as a “pre-estate sale,” and the tables were stacked with everything, from gym clothes to headboards. I found several bunches of artificial flowers I couldn’t live without, including these beautiful white tulips that found a home in a new vase on my sofa table. When I mentioned my find to my mother-in-law, she tipped me off to an artificial flower cleaner. (Who knew such a thing existed? My mother-in-law, like my Beloved, is a Virgo, and Virgos know.)

2020.07.12.farm

July 12: Visit a farm.

I crossed two things off my list when we stopped at Lester’s Bison Farm, only 20 minutes north of our house. Boasting a buffalo herd established in 1973, the farm peddles bison meat in every form plus chicken, pheasant and pork raised at nearby farms.

2020.07.12 meat from source

July 12: Buy meat from the source.

We walked out with two big bags of meat, allowing us the opportunity to eat local: better for us, better for the community, better for the environment. Though I tend to eschew grass-fed beef, the bison steak we enjoyed a few days later was absolutely delicious.

2020.07.22 iced coffee

July 22: Drink an iced coffee.

On the opposite extreme, I enjoyed a drink composed of international coffee beans from a global conglomerate one afternoon this past week. It was absolutely delicious, too.

2020.07.23 cucumber salad

July 23: Make cucumber salad.

When the box of produce this week from my Community Supported Agriculture farm included a sprig of dill, I sliced up a half dozen cucumbers from the garden to make a batch of quick pickled cucumber, a summery treat.

2020.07.25 berry cobbler

July 25: Make berry cobbler.

I whipped up a batch of triple-berry crisp for some special guests. Technically, because this has less flour, more oatmeal and no baking soda, it’s considered a crisp, but it was yummy in any case. Nothing helps endure a pandemic more than comfort food. Here’s to it!

Finding summer sweetness at home

A summer like no other, this summer is. Even in March, when the world went on lock-down and non-essential retail stores shuttered and Major League Baseball x-nayed spring training, I never imagined we would still be talking in July about sheltering in place and avoiding indoor restaurants and baseball games without stadium crowds.

Yet here we are. COVID-19 changes everything.

But I’m still trying to linger on summer’s joys no matter what happens in the world. Soon the nights will come earlier and the trees will lose their leaves. Gotta be mindful of the present moment because that’s all we have. Recently, I’ve been crossing things off my Summer 2020 list that I can enjoy within the safety of my own space.

2020.06.21 convertible

June 21: Ride in a convertible (or open the sun roof).

On a trip to Starbucks one morning when we discovered we were out of coffee beans (oh, the problems in the First World), I opened the sunroof in the car and shook off the a.m. cobwebs in the summer breeze. By using the drive-through, I avoided the trip into the great unknown of unwashed humanity but still enjoyed the great outdoors.

2020.07.07 run

July 7: Go for a run (even a short one).

On another glorious morning, I donned a beloved pair of Asics and a hat with a Nike message (and other appropriate garb) and ran around my little village. I used to run five miles at a time on the regular, but I more or less gave it up a couple of years ago when my poor feet couldn’t take the pounding anymore. Still, I jogged a mile and a half before I had to walk, so I’m still going to count myself among the folks who call themselves runners.

2020.07.09 basil

July 9: Eat fresh basil.

My Beloved’s garden has been (and will continue to be) a source of deliciousness. Even through we are committed to staying home, we have been eating like gourmands. I whipped up some kale-basil pesto (with walnuts instead of pine nuts), and I used it to top a freshly grilled mozzarella cheeseburger. Yum.

2020.07.11 green tomatoes

July 11: Make fried green tomatoes.

A few days later, the not-ready yet but plump looking tomatoes in the garden beckoned to me and persuaded me to turn them into fried green tomatoes to accompany bacon and eggs at brunch.

2020.07.18 peaches

July 18: Eat a fresh peach.

While we’re dining well at home, I would be remiss if I didn’t mention the “imperfect” peach I got on sale at a nearby farm market. It tasted perfect to me! Juicy like only a fresh peach can be. I threw in a few raspberries and some cinnamon-dusted plain yogurt, and boom, breakfast.

2020.07.16 rabbit far

July 16: Watch rabbits play.

My yard continues to be a source of merriment, to me when I’m doing yoga on the patio and definitely to the family of rabbits whom I believe have a nest beneath our cargo trailer. Watching rabbits play was not on my original list, but since baby bunnies are a spring thing, teenaged bunnies are a summer one. I witnessed a trio of brothers (I’m guessing on the gender) chase each other around my yard when I was in savasana pose (yes, one is supposed to close one’s eyes in this restful pose, but the rabbits caught my eye nonetheless). Can you see him?

2020.07.16 rabbit close

See him now?

This family is a little bit of redemption for me. Two years ago, there was a baby bunny massacre on my watch when we moved our RV into the driveway of the house we were renting at the time. The nest there was revealed, and baby bunnies hopped away in every direction. With gloved hands, I scrambled around to reassemble the nest, but a few hours later, I saw a satisfied-looking cat sitting beneath the camper. Not a good end for those baby bunnies. I felt terrible. But rabbits being rabbits, another family found refuge in our yard, and now they’re hopping around, probably planning their own families.

2020.07.19 lilies

July 19: Admire lilies.

Admiring lilies wasn’t on my original list either, but I think I missed the peony season (I had hoped to celebrate the scents of summer by smelling a peony) so I needed an alternative. Suddenly, all the ditches around here are sporting the lovely orange lilies, and then this morning, I rediscovered the turk’s hat lilies in the garden on the side of the my house that were originally planted by the church ladies who volunteered here when my house was a church. These dramatic blossoms make an appearance every summer.

2020.07.18 Zoom Family Reunion

July 18: Attend a family reunion.

When you can’t go to the party, bring the party to you! We observed the Kulland family reunion this year on Zoom. I missed my cousin’s wife’s stellar homemade Chex Mix, but we caught up on some family news virtually from the comforts and security of our homes.

2020.07.19 sheets

July 19: Hang sheets on a clothesline.

I wasn’t entirely sure how I was going to cross this one off my list since we don’t have a clothesline at our house. But I talked my Beloved into making one between two of our pine trees, and I hung our sheets on it this morning. I haven’t yet inhaled the scent only fresh air can imbue on sheets, but I can’t wait to go to bed tonight. “Clean sheets night” is my favorite night of the week, and it’s going to be even better tonight!

If we’re going to be stuck at home, we might as well appreciate the simple pleasures.

Summer in the heart of the porcupine

Leave it to a Minnesota Transplant to savor even the prickly bits of summer. It’s a precious resource, this season, so one has to relish in every part.

Like swatting a mosquito. I did that for the first time Thursday morning when I was yoga-ing on the patio in the thick morning air. Missed him. And didn’t get a picture. (From my 108 Precious Days of Summer list, July 9: Slap a mosquito.)

2020.06.25

June 25: Watch ants at work.

Summer is the season for insects, though. You won’t find anything but spiders in the dark corners of unused rooms in wintertime, but in summer, whoo-boy, the bugs are in paradise, and so are entomologists. Me? I’m not much of an insect lover. I’d prefer they leave me alone. The flyswatter and I get real familiar in summertime. But I spent a few moments while in a down-dog pose on the patio watching the ants work. We’ve got big black ones (like I pictured above) and little brown ones doing their ant thing out there. We get along fine as long as they steer clear of me in corpse pose.

This is what one who favors summer but has lived through long winters must do: find joy in even the less appealing parts. Like rain. Sure, gardeners love rain. But vain 50-somethings with limp hair like it less. Rainstorms have been passing by on the regular lately (which is why the mosquitoes have finally made an appearance).

2020.07.09

July 9: Listen to a rainstorm and count the seconds between lightning and thunder. 

After my Beloved retired the other night, I skulked around the dark house with a flashlight checking on the operation of the new gutter system and listening to the rain on the roof of the garage (we have so much insulation in our roof of our house, you can hardly hear the rain drops, but out in the garage, it’s pandemonium). I tiptoed down to the basement to check for leaks and found none (whew!), and as I passed by the front door, I peered out into the darkness and counted the seconds between the lightning and the thunder. The lightning was ten miles away. My camera setting might trick you into believing this photo was taken during the day, but it was black out there, and water was falling in gallons from the sky. I didn’t venture into the wet, but the scene was quite lovely.

That’s how one endures life’s storms: find beauty in them. There’s a word for that: ceraunophilia, loving thunder and lighning and find them intensely beautiful.

2020.07.02 lemonade

July 2: Drink freshly made lemonade.

When life hands you lemons, make lemonade.

 

Mournful cooing speaks of summer

A mourning dove lives somewhere near my house or, more likely, more than one lives nearby.

I’ve heard this bird’s mournful cooing as I emerge from sleep in my bed in the morning, when I’m lingering outside in the afternoon, and when I’m harvesting cilantro in the back garden before dinner, so he lives nearby.

When I asked my Beloved about it, he said mourning doves are like rats with wings⁠—they’re common and pesky.

But the language of a mourning dove is quite beautiful, much better than a rat’s scratching, and so it made my list of ways to savor summer.

June 28: Listen to a mourning dove.

Getting a picture proved impossible. I followed his call last week and tracked him to somewhere around the elementary school across the street from my house. Amid the tweets of other birds, you can hear the mourning dove’s call, but you can’t see him.

Even without the flashy good looks of a blue jay or beautiful scenery, the mourning dove’s call calms me. Just the simple act of paying attention forces me to slow down, and savor.

Here’s to summer.

How do I love thee, summer

We’re nearly a third of the way through summer, by Minnesota Transplant’s accounting (I mark the first day of summer as the Saturday of Memorial Day weekend), and here are dozen more ways I’ve been savoring this sweet season.

2020.06.08 walleye

June 8: Eat fresh walleye.

Somehow, I missed listing this flavor of summer on my original list, but of course, dining on walleye is a summer-must in Minnesota. Earlier this month, we drove waaaaay up north to see my parents. My father shared his hard-won bounty with us and fried it up in a pan (he is a master at frying good food; read about his fried eggs here). My Beloved and I gobbled up more than our fair share.

2020.06.08 rhubarb

June 8: Eat rhubarb something.

After our walleye feast, Mom served up bowls of gluten-free rhubarb crisp topped with vanilla ice cream. So sweet and tangy! You should have seen all the rhubarb in her garden! She had a bumper crop.

2020.06.09 radish

June 9: Dip a fresh radish in salt.

Mom gave us a tour of her garden, and while we were admiring her rhubarb, she picked a bunch of radishes. This snack was a crunchy treat.

2020.06.09 bee

June 9: Watch a bumble bee work.

This noisy insect buzzed around sipping nectar and spreading pollen while we were traipsing around the garden.

2020.06.09 watermelon

June 9: Eat watermelon.

Are you sensing a food theme during our visit to the ‘rents? Mom dressed up lunch with a fruit and cheese tray.

2020.06.09 grave

June 9: Place flowers on a grave.

It wasn’t actually me who placed flowers on my brother’s grave when we visited; Mom watered the flowers she had placed there earlier this summer.

2020.06.10 steak

June 10: Eat a freshly grilled steak.

On our return journey south to home, we stopped at my sister’s house and celebrated being carnivores. Check out those grill marks!

2020.06.11 loon

June 11: Listen for a loon.

This bird’s call wasn’t on my original list either, but hearing the distinct, eerie call of a loon is somehow built in a Minnesotan’s DNA. It says home (and also, maybe, buy a lottery ticket). A pair of loons live on lake outside my sister’s house, and this one was making a racket when an eagle threatened her baby.

2020.06.13 al fresco

June 13: Dine al fresco.

My Beloved and I relished in a special occasion: meeting my stepson’s fiancée’s parents for the first time. We dined beneath a tiki hut outside of a Caribbean fusion restaurant. Minnesota was just opening its restaurants more widely after months of pandemic-related closures, so eating out was a real treat (as was meeting my stepson’s future in-laws).

2020.06.15 marigolds

June 15: Appreciate marigolds.

Marigolds’ unpleasant musky odor doesn’t excite the nose, but their bright color demands attention. On a walk to the post office, I admired my neighbor’s marigold presentation in a front yard caldron.

2020.06.20 bouquet

June 20: Arrange a bouquet of fresh flowers.

I can take no credit for creating this lovely crown of fresh daisies and baby’s breath beyond making a phone call to the local florist. She was delighted to create it for me since so many brides have canceled their bloom-festooned occasions this summer. I indulged in this adornment to celebrate the summer solstice, the longest day of the year (and to wear to a very small dinner party we hosted last night).

2020.06.20 bonfire

After our guests departed, I wanted to dance around a bonfire in the back yard, “A Midsummer Night’s Dream” style. Alas, it was raining, so we lit some candles under the picnic table umbrella and toasted with a shot of tequila as a nightcap.

2020.06.20 sparkler

June 20: Light a sparkler.

I bet you assumed lighting a sparkler was meant for Fourth of July. Well, I might do that, too, but as a final welcome to the official first day of summer, I lit a sparkler and twirled around the patio, avoiding raindrops. Here’s to squeezing every last bit of joy out of summer, folks!

Lord, what fools these mortals be!

~Puck, in Shakespeare’s “A Midsummer Night’s Dream”

 

11 ways to savor summer down, 97 to go

Conscious that more urgent topics deserve attention, I am nonetheless savoring this sweetest of seasons. Please don’t judge. Even the highest-minded of us can appreciate a distraction once in a while.

I’ve determined that one way to savor summer is to record me savoring it. Let me count the ways. Here are a few of the 108 ways I’ve savored summer so far:

2020.05.23

May 23: Pick a dandelion.

2020.05.23.asparagusI didn’t actually pick a dandelion, but this bunch is one of the biggest I’ve seen. Fortunately for some weed-killer-wielding landscaper, it wasn’t in someone’s yard; I found it on the side of the road in an asparagus patch (stretching along behind the dandelions there). I hadn’t harvested wild asparagus before, but it was a bit of a game, picking spears out from among blades of grass. My Beloved and I walked for about 300 yards, finding a couple pounds of spears. Technically, I think eating asparagus is a way to savor spring, but it was still delicious on Memorial Day weekend.

2020.05.24

May 24: Eat corn on the cob.

It shouldn’t be so delicious so early, but my Beloved picked up fresh corn on the cob at the local mushroom farm, and it was as sweet and tender as I expect it to be in July.

2020.05.28

May 28: Get a pedicure.

My Beloved and I ventured out for a pedicure. We wore masks, and we agreed to wash our hands upon entry (the technicians washed our feet). It felt like an extra-special treat this year especially.

2020.05.29

May 29: Smell lilacs.

I spent an hour one morning exploring my own yard. The white-flowered bushes that line most of the perimeter are in frothy bloom this time of year, and three lilac bushes decorate the row. They are as sweetly perfumed as they look.

2020.05.30

May 30: Fill a birdbath.

It wasn’t on my original list, but one can’t fill a birdbath in winter in the upper Midwest because it freezes solid. I filled my mother-in-law’s birdbath after my Beloved power washed it clean. Her birds can appreciate even more crystal clear splashing now.

2020.05.30 picnic

May 30: Picnic.

If you dine on a picnic table, it’s a picnic. My Beloved and I enjoyed some Chinese take-out in the park.

2020.06.01

May 31: Drink wine outdoors.

My Beloved and I subscribe to Zerba Winery’s wine club after we tasted this particular brand of the nectar of the gods during a jaunt through Washington state a couple of years ago. We imbibed on a bottle of Cabernet Franc on the patio while my Beloved grilled a couple of steaks.

2020.06.03

June 3: Take a twilight walk.

Summer light is just different in Minnesota. The angle of the sun, the long days—something just makes an evening walk in my home state stand out. During a visit with my Adored stepson, his fiancée and my granddog, I accompanied them on a twilight walk. You can even see the almost-full moon there among the treetops.

2020.06.04

June 4: Take a boat ride.

My Beloved invested in a new-to-him boat this year, and I joined him on the St. Croix River on what he called the maiden voyage (it was actually his second outing, but this boat ride lasted longer than just getting the engine up to full speed and down again). I assume this will be the first of many boat rides this season.

2020.06.05

June 5: Mow the lawn.

I lent a hand to my stepson by mowing his lawn. Naturally, I mowed it on the diagonal because I think it looks better that way. I classify this act as a way to savor the scents of summer, though I can’t say I truly appreciate the scent of freshly cut grass; I was thinking too much about working up a sweat.

2020.06.06

June 6: Lay on the ground and look at the clouds

On an absolutely perfect 60-degree morning, I practiced yoga on my stepson’s back deck. While in savasana, I gazed at the clouds drifting by rather than closing my eyes. They look almost tropical, these are the leaves of the rather unique hackberry tree in my stepson’s yard.

# # #

How are you savoring summer?

108 precious days of summer

It happens every five or six years: the calendar gods bestow us with an extra long summer.

Astronomers might start counting summer’s days at the summer solstice (June 20 this year), but I don’t. Summer for a native Minnesotan begins with Memorial Day weekend and ends on Labor Day.

Most years, including last year and next year, there are 101 days between the Saturday before Memorial Day and the Monday of Labor Day. But this year, Memorial Day falls as early as possible (May 25) and Labor Day occurs as late as possible (Sept. 7). That means there are 108 days of summer—a full week more than usual.

The calendar hasn’t been structured this way since 2015, and before that 2009. A quick look back reminds me I was spending precious early days of that summer of ’09 watching Little League baseball, running long distances and grocery shopping. Actually, those are not the worst ways to spend summer days.

In a year when spring this year wasn’t only weird, it was isolating and downright scary, the prospect of a long summer sounds pretty appealing. Even if I can’t enjoy it in the usual ways, I want to savor every one of those 108 days.

So I made a list of ways to appreciate the sounds and scents and flavors of summer, one for each of those exquisite days. Some of the things on my list might not be possible in a pandemic (stock car races,  a parade, fireworks), but I’m operating from an optimistic perspective, which is probably healthier if not entirely logical at this point. I packed in lots of little ways to enjoy summer, not matter what COVID-19 has in store.

Some of the items on my list are specific to my interests. I can’t roller skate, I hate golf and cotton candy is way too sweet for my tastes, but those summery things might be right up your alley, especially if you don’t eat meat or wear a ponytail, which made my list.

108 days of summer

If you like the idea of celebrating summer right down to slapping mosquitos, mowing the lawn and making fried green tomatoes, I turned my list into an image so you can download it and print it out.

Beginning Saturday, the first official day of Minnesota Transplant’s summer, here are 108 ways to fully enjoy it.

Sights of summer

  • Go to a county (or state) fair.
  • Go to a parade.
  • Attend a family reunion.
  • Lay on the ground and look at the clouds.
  • Light a sparkler.
  • Go to a drive-in movie.
  • Visit a museum.
  • Stop at a historical marker.
  • Take a road trip (interstate highways don’t count).
  • Appreciate marigolds.
  • Watch the sun rise.
  • Watch the sun set.
  • Watch (or listen to) a baseball game.
  • Go bird watching.
  • Count the stars.
  • Watch a bumble bee work.
  • Watch fireworks.
  • Enjoy sunflowers.

Sounds of summer

  • Listen to the wind through windchimes.
  • Go to an outdoor concert.
  • Listen to a rainstorm.
  • Listen for a cardinal.
  • Pay attention to crickets.
  • Make a summer playlist.
  • Listen to a mourning dove.
  • Listen to children playing outside.
  • Listen to frogs in a pond.
  • Count the seconds between lightning and thunder.

Flavors of summer

  • Eat a fresh tomato.
  • Eat corn on the cob.
  • Make homemade popsicles.
  • Eat an ice cream cone.
  • Eat a s’more.
  • Make fried green tomatoes.
  • Dip a radish in salt.
  • Drink an iced coffee.
  • Drink wine outdoors.
  • Eat watermelon.
  • Eat a freshly grilled steak.
  • Make cucumber salad.
  • Eat a hotdog (preferably a Chicago dog).
  • Buy meat from the source.
  • Shell peas.
  • Make gazpacho.
  • Make berry cobbler.
  • Drink a tropical cocktail.
  • Dine al fresco.
  • Eat a fresh peach.
  • Eat fresh basil.
  • Picnic.
  • Drink an Arnold Palmer.
  • Drink freshly made lemonade.
  • Attend a backyard barbecue.
  • Blow bubbles with bubblegum.

Scents of summer

  • Arrange a bouquet of fresh flowers.
  • Take a walk after the rain.
  • Smell lilacs.
  • Mow the lawn.
  • Eat rhubarb something.
  • Smell peonies.
  • Use coconut sunscreen.

Doings of summer

  • Walk through rain puddles.
  • Do goat yoga.
  • Swing.
  • Climb a tree.
  • Day dream.
  • Lie in a hammock.
  • Play hopscotch.
  • Read a book outdoors.
  • Go for a boat ride.
  • Kiss in the moonlight.
  • Walk along the shore.
  • Visit a farm.
  • Kayak.
  • Sunbathe.
  • Dance.
  • Take a twilight walk.
  • Walk a labyrinth.
  • Pick a dandelion.
  • Wear a ponytail and baseball cap.
  • Take a day off.
  • Play 7-up (it’s a one-person game with a tennis ball).
  • Watch ants at work.
  • Pick berries.
  • Shop a garage sale.
  • Write a poem.
  • Sit around a campfire or bonfire.
  • Slap a mosquito.
  • Wear shorts and sandals.
  • Attend an outdoor church service.
  • Get a pedicure.
  • Ride in a convertible (or open the sun roof).
  • Go to a farmer’s market.
  • Play mini golf.
  • Go for a run (even a short one).
  • Chase a monarch butterfly.
  • Go to a flea market.
  • Place flowers on a grave.
  • Collect shells.
  • Paint a rock.
  • Visit a sculpture garden.
  • Go to stock car race.
  • Splash in a pool.
  • Go to a sidewalk sale.
  • Raise a flag.
  • Hang sheets on a clothesline.
  • Throw a frisbee.
  • Ride a bike.