About 5 years ago this time of year, I was driving in the country and had to stop because I happened upon a vista that was a living definition of deep summer. That image has been in my head ever since, and I revisit the mental snapshot every so often.

It was hot, so hot that the heat made the air visible as it shimmered in waves. The girls and I were driving along a quiet country road, one of those narrow roads that you drive down the middle of because is really only one and a half lanes. We rounded a corner by an abandoned pasture bordered a three strand barbed wire fence, and nature murmured “summer” in my ear. I stopped the van and just sat there, soaking up the image, storing the mental postcard. The wildflowers were in full bloom; the bright bands of color snaked through long grasses that were bending slightly under the weight of full seed heads. Ancient trees with gnarled branches stood sentinel by a meandering creek. There was no noise from traffic, nothing from the human world hit my ears except the quiet breathing of my napping girls, yet the air was alive with sounds. It actually hummed. There was a cacophony of buzzing and singing from the bees, field crickets and grasshoppers. I sat as long as I could, listening, smelling and watching.

I have been reminded of that afternoon often in the last few days as I have been in the car much more than usual. The country roadsides and wild areas I have been driving past are alive with wide swaths of color – purple and white phlox, orange ditch lilies, white queen anne’s lace, bright yellow rubeckia, dry yellow-brown seed heads on the grasses and about a million shades of green. How to describe summer green? It is the brilliant green of the soybeans, the dry green of the underside of the reaching corn stalks, the yellow green of the grasses and drying oats, the deep green of oaks and maples, the silvery green of birch and aspen all blending together like daubs of paint in an Impressionist painting.

Each season, each moment, in the natural world has a way of reaching out and assaulting my senses. I often say that I favor spring and fall, but there is something amazing about abundance and overload of deep summer. Lay back in your hammock, drink a cool lemonade with fresh mint floating in it, and be part of the natural world. Soak in the sights, sounds and smells that make this time of year unique. I am.