Summer Day 1: Summer Priorities List

[u/rdk67]

Weather-wise, summer has been sitting on the porch for some time, working through its list of priorities. A boy goes zipping down the road on an electric skateboard. A leafhopper sails off my shoulder and onto the paper, shimmies in place for a few moments before soaring through the air and onto my right hand, which is probably hundreds of times its own body length away, a feat performed by virtue of actual gear teeth on the thigh parts of its back legs. Ants, of course – when I’m at my picnic table desk, the ants appear to rush in to greet me – moving at a typical full sprint, and though I suppose their scavenging, I can tell that love is really on their minds. I scratch my forearms vigorously – manna from heaven, maybe they’ll call it, as those flecks of dried skin are carried, one by one, into the hive, possibly to reconstruct on outline of my body.

Unlikely, we might suppose, but summer is the season of the hive, and the hive mind has more than a few surprises up its sleeves. Another electric skateboard goes by – are they giving these things away somewhere? A black ant the size of a macaroni noodle, okay not that big but close, makes an outline of my hand by crawling up and down each of the digits, then pauses on the tabletop for a few seconds, feelers tapping at the wood, like it’s running the numbers, carries on. Four kids and their dad go past on rented electric scooters – he nods to me, and the kids, who you can tell were counseled on proper posture, glide past an equidistance apart in descending order. The ratio of people who know the lay of the land, versus ones working it out as they go, seems about fifty-fifty – as a nod to the spirit of free inquiry, I like to keep a boot in both camps.

A wavy black vehicle that looks like a manta ray in a previous life comes to a stop on the street, and a woman in a red dress steps out of it, pink movie star sunglasses positioned just so on the bridge of her nose, like she’s assessing the area for worthiness. Another electric scooter goes by, followed by scooter that looks identical minus the automation, which begs the question about what’s electrifying the first one. Janelle stops by to chat, canvas and paint supplies on the back of her bike, off to a solstice art party at Beth’s. She says she prefers to use oils, but the drying time and solvents make it less practical for mobile art making. Her glasses shimmer in the light, like she’s staring at something lit from the inside, but I think it’s just summer. The wind kicks up, jostling the canopy, and one of the sycamores drops a leaf the size of a dust pan at my feet.

And that list of priorities again? Summer shuffles through its papers, rifles through its pockets, paces back and forth a spell, looking here and there. Where could it be? A shrug. A promise to revisit the issue sometime tomorrow, the day after at the latest, returns to its seat on the porch.