Summer knows no hemispheres or calendars

Yesterday I realised that summer knows no borders or hemispheres. While in our town the winter slowly crept into the houses uninvited, darkening the streets early and making the day feel like a few hours too short, in the Southern Hemisphere the sun had just risen with so much confidence. With the certainty of someone who knows the days are long and warm.

The longest day of the year it was, in fact.

And in our hemisphere, the shortest day just passed. Oh, but it means that we are already one step closer to that season, the one with the name this little community bears.

I took the photos you see in this post last summer, in July. Those who came to the mini Hive meetup will also recognise the places and the sublime details of nature bathed in the sunshine. Some months have already passed since then; however, maybe summer does not only live in the south of the map right now, I suppose it also remains suspended somewhere in the remote corners of memory, where the impossible devotion to touch the sun remains tightly locked.

Most probably, there are invisible windows with their firm frames, embedded deep within the chest of this wooden house I saw that summer afternoon, sealed to keep the blaze from entering and burning what is delicate. They say that there is no rush to open them. I am sure the river is still there, bringing some fresh water and a real light that could flood everything once the calendar marks the right time for it.

When you walk carefree, with a pleasant feeling, you can allow yourself to be touched by these peaceful scenes of nature, but also objects that found themselves there. Some boats, upside down, rested on the ground like bodies that have forgotten how to move.

When we passed by them, they caught my attention, but perhaps only now can we appreciate their purpose. Stranded on the ground, there was no hurry among them. It doesn't really matter whether they are sustained by a solid faith that someone will push them back toward the horizon, or they assumed this circumstance. Actually, both perceptions of these boats are fine.

And here I was on those wooden planks, advancing towards the water and the platform, where a cat also joined us later. As a metaphor, it would be cool to write that we walk upon our own questions, with the whisper of many thoughts beneath our feet, and that each plank could draw the silhouettes of a new summer vibe. But I won't.

However, I will imagine the summer that just started in the southern half of the Earth, bringing the vibes that warm the days of cats, people, boats, rivers, flowers and maybe even Hivers. Are there those who will feel the summer vibes? 🌞