I love summer in Maine. I love it more than I should, if that's possible. When we lived in southern California for four years, we had summer year-round, and I found that I am quite useless and unproductive in such climates. Actually, let me clarify. Our yard and garden always looked good in California, but the house was always a mess, the dishes piled up, the cooking was a joke, and my desk was perpetually disorganized.
The problem was, I spent all my time outside. I found excuses everywhere - the garden needed weeding, the car needed to be washed, and our children needed to be outside - supervised, of course. When we came back to the East Coast, I was a much more productive writer, housekeeper, and mom. On those grey days that are much more common than they are out west, I found time to clean the house, put things away, and of course, teach my kids.
But here we are and it's summer again. I don't know if it's because I'm getting older, because I miss the West Coast, because I possibly have Seasonal Affective Disorder (or would like to think so) or because this past winter was exceptionally grey, but I can't seem to get enough of being outside. I'm craving the sunshine and color of summer. I've got a better tan than I've had in years and my yard is shaping up quite nicely.
On the other hand, the house (especially the basement) is, well... I really don't want to talk about that. Besides, the sun just came up and I think I need to go out and water the tomato garden...
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