Cindy La Ferle’s Home Officea window on the writing life

Lost art of loafing

Cindy on August 18th, 2009

I pray that the life of this spring and summer may ever lie fair in my memory. ~ Henry David Thoreau

The sad reality always hits us mid-August: Summer is winding down, and we’re lurching toward the new school year. Taking inventory of what we’ve done since June, we might be surprised at how precious little time we’ve spent relaxing in a deck chair.

For most of us, the first half of June explodes like a bottle rocket into thin air. Graduation parties. Father’s Day picnics. Bridal showers. Art fairs. Weddings. Family vacations and reunions. The whole season balloons with so many joyful events and ceremonies that it might seem as if we’ve been riding a roller coaster, non-stop, at a summer carnival.

Last week, my friend Jan and I talked about our need to zen out and savor the things we’ve created, everything from our families to our careers. A widely published author, Jan is prolific and productive — and I’ve always admired that about her. Until recently, though, I hadn’t realized that she too occasionally struggles to let go and let it be.  Like me, she’s often focused on “what’s next.” We agreed, in so many words, that downtime is as essential to our well-being as active participation in all that matters to us. And the rewards that follow are often surprising.

So, before summer packs up its beach bag and clears out for a new school term, I’d like to indulge in a few non-eventful pleasures. Many Europeans, for example, take the entire month of August as vacation time. While such a long holiday isn’t possible for industrious Americans, I’d like to borrow a shorter page from the French. Joie de vivre isn’t all that complicated, but you have to step aside and make room for it.

Here’s my plan.

*Guilt-free, I’m going to chill out for a week and remember how the words “summer” and “freedom” used to hang together when I was a kid.

*With or without a hammock, I’m going to watch more sunsets, spot fireflies, nap with my cats, and contemplate my world by moonlight.

*I’ll brush up on the names of wild birds and constellations.

*Instead of pulling weeds or pruning, I’ll sit back and admire what I’ve planted.

*I’ll spend less time e-mailing friends and more time having lunch with them in outdoor cafes. We’ll push aside our own worries while we sit back to enjoy the parade of characters strolling the sidewalk.

*No more complaining about the humidity. When tempted, I’ll remind myself that I’ll be spending a long Michigan winter in front of a computer monitor, wishing I could be out in a garden.

*With or without company coming, I’ll cut fresh flowers for the dinner table. At least once, I’ll steam corn on the grill and make lemonade from scratch.

*If I can remember the right titles, I’ll rent film classics I haven’t watched in ages. And maybe a few I Love Lucy episodes.

*Just for one afternoon, I’ll read a novel that has no redeeming social value while I sunbathe without fretting about skin cancer.

*I’ll ride my bike for an entire morning without checking my watch. After pedaling around a local park, I’ll rest under a thick canopy of trees and admire the view.

How about you? What will you do to enjoy the last lazy days of summer?

Most of us schedule our lives too tightly, then rely on “nostalgic flashbacks” to appreciate blissful moments, says Veronique Vienne in The Art of the Moment: Simple Ways to Get the Most from Life (Clarkston Potter).

“As you embrace the here and now, don’t be surprised if you suddenly feel lucky — lucky to be blessed with a good mind, lucky to have friends who love you for who you are,” Vienne advises. “The ultimate gift of the moment is a deep sense of gratitude for simply being alive.”

It’s always fun to anticipate and celebrate the major milestones. But we need a break from so-called special events, not to mention a reprieve from all the graduation (and college orientation) speeches about beginnings and endings. We need ordinary time. Come September, I want to say good-bye to summer knowing that I’ve squeezed every last drop of its sweetness and savored it all. -- Cindy La Ferle

– Parts of this essay originally appeared in my “Life Lines” column in the Daily Tribune (Royal Oak). I took the photo of the garden Buddha in my back yard. The statue was a gift from my husband for my 50th birthday. –

Tags: end of summer, leisure and recreation, simple pleasures, summer, vacation, Veronique Vienne
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