Past sunny summer Saturdays enjoy a replay on Bainbridge

Ah! A summer Saturday! Let me list the joys of a sunny summer Saturday on Bainbridge. First, no socks. We have bare feet in sandals, toes free at last to wiggle and admire. Then, airy clothes, a pair of shorts, a filmy dress or a cooling shirt, and finally a hat to keep sun off completes our summer outfits.

  • Wednesday, July 23, 2008 6:19pm
  • Opinion

Ah! A summer Saturday!

Let me list the joys of a sunny summer Saturday on Bainbridge.

First, no socks. We have bare feet in sandals, toes free at last to wiggle and admire. Then, airy clothes, a pair of shorts, a filmy dress or a cooling shirt, and finally a hat to keep sun off completes our summer outfits.

(Sun! Can that be? After this dreadful winter!)

Last Saturday began with blue skies and a forecast of 85 degrees. (85 degrees!)

Out came the sandals, the pants and a breezy shirt. I began the day with toast and coffee on the patio then a walk for Drake the Wonder Dog. (On the patio!)

The trees waved beyond the condo garden, the early blue shadows played provocatively through the flowers, and I sighed with joy. (With joy!)

I journeyed to the Library Book Sale as soon as I could, where I browsed for books for summer reading, particularly this summer Saturday reading. I knew I was killing valuable time, for the Farmer’s Market beckoned.

Finding a place to park, I followed the music of guitar, banjo and other assorted strings. The music bounced off the blossoms, the hats, the radishes, the strawberries, the dogs, the glassware, the earrings, the soap, the cakes, the bread, and those plants that needed homes.

Ah, what joy to be at the Farmer’s Market on a sunny Saturday morning!

I browsed there as I had browsed through the library sale, choosing cheese, a few vegetables, but filling my head with pleasure.

What next? Lunch at the Bainbridge Bakers, chosen so Drake the Wonder Dog could sniff to his heart’s content as we, the husband and I, ate to our heart’s content.

The sun moved overhead and blessed shadows nurtured us. How hot it suddenly had become! And all those chores yet ahead: shopping, cleaning retrieval, mail and prescriptions.

Finally finished, we returned to the condo, and, replete with our efforts of browsing, buying, shopping, and eating, we collapsed in our red chairs on the patio. I finished my ice tea, and the husband absorbed the paper.

The sun still beamed overhead, the shadows still played seductively among the blossoms, but it was time to retreat, to take a nap, to read the newly-purchased book, to wait until the heat waned and to hang out, yes, hang out as, the shadows again inched forward in the opposite direction of the morning. Only then, we could declare, the perfect summer sunny Saturday was winding to a close.

Ah, twilight of a summer day. How dearly I recall my childhood twilights after a blistering afternoon! Friends appeared magically from the protection of ceiling fans and cool patios to play sling-a statue, catching fireflies, tag, hide and seek among darkened bushes and frightening darkness, catching fire-flies, tag then, as night descended, we sat or lay on dewy grass and did what?

Who knows what stories we told – a replay of the Saturday matinee, a spooky tale, brave episodes of derring-do? But when mothers called, we knew that the end of the day was near.

My mother pulled me into a bathtub where feet never got as clean as she wished.

Then bed.

Why do I recall the crossed curtains moving in the night wind, the moon flowing seamlessly through the window, cool rays that fell as a blessing over my tired body and, of course, clean feet?

Was I appreciating that moment knowing one day a hundred years later I would share it with my Bainbridge friends?

The condo garden is hushed. The husband and I sit on the patio replaying those enchanting past twilights, and finally yawning. I take the Wonder Dog on his final stroll. He curls up on the bed, while the husband and I brush our teeth, take our pills and drop into bed, too weary to wonder if the moon will ever appear.

Sally Robison is a Winslow artist and the author of “The Permanent Guest’s

Guide to Bainbridge Island.”

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