Raise your hand if you are glad the season’s first heat wave is over. I know some people thrive in oppressive heat, I’m married to one, but most of us reasonable types prefer to spend summer days outside, and that was nearly impossible for many last week.
There was a benefit, though, to the high temperatures and humidity. It forced us to slow down, physically, and perhaps mentally, too.
I remember several years ago walking by my family room window and noticing four or five huge black birds crowded onto one of my bushes. They weren’t crows, they weren’t anything I’ve seen before. If I could compare them, I’d say they were similar to white egrets, except black. The funny thing is I didn’t stop and study them for even a few minutes. I registered they were there, and then rushed on to keep doing whatever it was that I was doing.
What could I have been focused on that I didn’t pause to really look at something so unique I still puzzle over it these years later? Nothing I remember. It must have seemed important at the time, and maybe it was important. But the fact that I still think about those birds tells me that I should have moved slower, really studied them, marveled at them.
Who has time to marvel? Last week we did. A friend and his wife spent one of the hottest evenings at Goldthwait Beach and marveled that it was at least 20 degrees cooler there.
Cars were parked up and down the streets in our neighborhood like someone was throwing a huge party. We marveled that we get to live in a place other people drive to so they can go to the beach to get relief from the heat.
I floated in a friend’s pool and marveled that it could feel cool even though the sun had warmed it up to some 85 degrees.
Remember when the storm rolled in and the heat finally broke? Did you slow down to watch it happen? It was so welcome, I’m guessing yes. The wind seemed to descend in layers, moving only the tops of the trees at first. The sky was dark in patches, as if the clouds hadn’t decided for sure they were coming. We hoped they were coming. Two dragonflies darted together across the backyard, like they were dancing, flying much lower than usual. Do dragonflies hunt for bugs that way? I watched them and wondered, without hurrying away.
Distant lightning and thunder, and then drops of rain so plump they seemed more like cartoon drawings of rain drops. And ah, then the downpour. We kept our doors open to listen even though that meant needing towels to mop up the floor.
There’s an indie band based out of Colorado called LVDY (pronounced LADY) who just released a song called “Move Slow.” There’s a wisdom in the lyrics I wish I understood when I was younger and in such a hurry:
“Red wine on a Sunday, red cheeks on a cold day, music on the stereo. Sunlight through the window, fresh tracks on the new snow, gold leaves have come and gone.
So move slow, learn to let go, did you outgrow what’s left behind. No need to hold on to what’s long gone, you’ve been so strong all this time.
Low tide on a full moon, seedlings into full bloom, flat whites in the afternoon. Trusting in the cycles, with spring, revival, shedding of the cocoon.”
So beautiful, thank you LVDY.
Move slow. Last week we did. Let us continue to. Oh, magical, mysterious black birds, please come back so I may marvel at you.
A member of the Marblehead Current’s Board of Directors, Virginia Buckingham is the former chief executive officer of the Massachusetts Port Authority, chief of staff to two Massachusetts governors, deputy editorial page editor for the Boston Herald and author of “On My Watch: A Memoir.”
Virginia Buckingham
A member of the Marblehead Current’s Board of Directors, Virginia Buckingham is the former chief executive officer of the Massachusetts Port Authority, chief of staff to two Massachusetts governors, deputy editorial page editor for the Boston Herald and author of “On My Watch: A Memoir.”