The Slow Magic ofLazy Summer Days, Southern Light and Porch‑Swing Stillness
For some reason, this phrase puts me on a porch swing in the Deep South, with the sounds of crickets, love bugs, and cicadas. I would prefer to stay on the porch because the alligator rising from the nearby swamp needs a wide berth. A sweet breeze is wafting around the house. Southern breezes do not blow. They tend to crawl around much like the alligator.
The days get slowly longer and longer. I look forward to the evening and the longer rest from work. Something about the light in late summer beckons you onto the porch and holds you there until dark. A lazy swing and your own thoughts join together to create a rhythm. At first, the daily review fills your mind, but soon that fades, and as the light changes, a deep sense of blending with the surroundings takes hold. You are connected to the place, to the land, and the water. What you are doing no longer matters. Where you are takes hold.
A connection forms, and you meld with the surroundings. The image of a tapestry comes to mind. You are stitched into the landscape, no more important than the tree, the Spanish moss, or the mosquito. You are a part, only a part, of the landscape. Your stitches are the same size as the others. The color of the yarn is found in other parts of the tapestry, as well. In fact, the little bits of red and yellow on the flowers are much more important than you.
Somehow, this gives you the permission you have been seeking, to let go, to relax, to become a part, only a part. Too often, you are called on to be the whole. But here on the porch in the evening, you get the dimensions right. You are a part. Your breath goes deeper, and your muscles relax into the swing. The movement of a slow, steady back‑and‑forth is comforting and reassuring. A gentle push with your toes, just your toes, keeps the rhythm. These small parts are comforting and reassuring.
This reminder of your place relieves the tension in your body, and you can suddenly breathe more deeply. The smell of the swamp is pungent. It mixes with the magnolia in a way that is heady and satisfying. Here you can experience the sweet, intoxicating scent of the magnolia in the front yard. That thing has been there forever. As it mixes with the jasmine that lines the porch, you are suddenly a little girl running along the fence in search of a hiding place. Only your giggles will give you away. Then you will dash for the porch and the safety of the swing.
Explore related reflections:
summer reflections
mindfulness in nature
seasonal emotional growth
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By Dr. Gloria K Vanderhorst
