As another North Dakota June comes to a close, I got to thinking how wonderful this past month – and most of the other Junes since moving here – has been.
After a long winter and usually a touch and go spring, June is the affirmation that summer really is here.
And we, or at least me, welcome the hot temperatures, which haven’t yet lost their allure the way they do by late August or September.
The intermittent thunderstorms, although some too severe for my liking, have left the landscape much greener than past Junes.
And something about it really compliments the blue skies this time of year.
I swear they’re brighter, especially as the sun nears closer to the horizon, which is dang near 11 p.m. these days.
Maybe that’s the other thing about June, as it encourages us to stretch our days and make the most of this while we can.
We all know it won’t be long before we settle in on a cold winter night by 5 p.m.
June is the opposite.
June is staying up past bedtime, farmers markets, beach days, barbeques, poolside hangouts, ice cream, camping, mowing the lawn and fishing.
It’s squeezing every drop out of summer.
Speaking of fishing.
June has been great for fishing the last few years, maybe to a lesser extent this year, but we still managed to restock our shockingly low fish supply enough to fuel our weekly fish fries for a while.
One could argue July and August offer the same, but they don’t feel the same.
I don’t know about you, but July gets busy.
Albeit many of the commitments on our calendar are fun plans – holiday weekend getaways, the State Fair and a trip to the Boundary Waters – but July is planned out.
For some reason, it always is.
It doesn’t allow us the time to savor the days the way June does.
And by August, we’ve sort of been there done that and already have fall on the mind.
The greens have faded, the sky is less blue, and the ice cream just doesn’t hit the spot the same way.
This past weekend we packed all of June into two days.
We camped at Lake Sakakawea State Park, stayed up until 11 p.m. because that’s when it finally got dark and Fischer crashed from his marshmallow buzz.
We fished, sort of, went to the beach, got ice cream, and spent more minutes outside than in.
Even when we returned home, with everything unpacked and laundry going, Fischer splashed in his pool all evening, deciding to just turn it into bathtime.
The weekend eventually caught up to him, though.
Back in his bed with his favorite stuffies, he was zonked by 8 p.m. and we weren’t far behind.
If only the calendar had a few more Junes.
