Less than 200 days of summer left

Years ago, I remember a sign plastered to the front of one of those coin-operated newspaper boxes; in capital letters, it read, "LESS THAN 200 DAYS OF SUMMER LEFT". I know it was meant to jumpstart people into getting into a summer mood by buying things like barbecues and lawnmowers but to me, it was utterly depressing. When I read it, it took me a good several seconds to calculate that not only were there not less than 200 days left in summer, but that summer didn't even have 200 days to begin with. Either way, that sign proclaiming the shortness of summer has stuck in my mind for decades.

Here we are, four days into June. With the longest day of the year just over two weeks away and the weather not matching it (like D at work once said, 'It's like Mother Nature is going through menopause, and letting the whole world know about it'), the concept of summer is a strange one to me. I already feel like I've been outside, gotten sun, seen shows and traveled enough to last me a whole season, and it hasn't even begun. But with the weather on such a rollercoaster ride, hardly getting a hint of summer's warmth before the days start getting shorter makes it feel like summer's already drawing to a close.

It's just been a really weird season for me overall. For the first time in my life, I've developed an interest in gardening. I've turned over the soil in the garden at my childhood home, and I used to prune the grapevine, but it all felt like chores. Now, I'm learning about plants, I'm liking learning about plants, and I'm disliking not being able to make a proper garden.

And I guess I'm in a bit of a weird mood today, too, because I went to a funeral earlier and it once again got me thinking about life and mortality. I met this really cool woman there, P, who sat next to me during the service. We talked about the luscious bouquets of roses at the front; I leaned over and whispered, 'You know, I've often thought that if there is a God, marigolds and roses would be proof of existence because of how perfectly formed they are.' And it's true. Each petal is so exquisitely shaped, the colouring so intense and vibrant, its bloom arriving in the most tempestuous and surprising of conditions- how can this not be proof that life contains more than we can explain? I'm not saying that there is a God, just that there's a lot we don't know about the relationship between us and the world.

What's really nice about the whole thing is now my mom and I have one more thing in common, a shared interest that someday in the future I'll look back on fondly.