There is a famous painting in the Art Institute of Chicago called “A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte”by Georges Seurat, a French artist. You may know it from the 1984 Broadway musical”Sunday in the Park with George.” It depicts a variety of people enjoying the sun and cool breezes on an island in the Seine River, which flows through Paris.
Alas, I have never had the opportunity to bask on the grass of this island. However, I did spend a recent afternoon sitting on a park bench with a book on our own Shipyard Park. What a delightful day. I mention the painting because the scene reminded me of it. There were families picnicking, children running about, boys tossing a baseball and many ice cream lovers enjoying the cool refreshment. Even a dog or two scurrying about. Though that is prohibited, no one complained.
It was a beautiful summer day in the “Poi” (I hate that word, but it seemed to fit here). The sounds of the waves slapping the rocks on the shore and the flag flapping in the breeze were about as relaxing as one could hope for.
The sound of the flag flapping also brought back memories of other summer sounds. A screen door slamming is one. My grandmother’s back door slammed every time someone entered or left. I have one on my studio that does the same thing. My bride hates the sound and jumps every time she hears it, but I like it.
The sounds of a cool drink being poured over ice, bees buzzing about the garden, burgers sizzling on the barbecue, crickets and fireflies in the evening, the sound of rain on the porch roof or a thunderstorm that brings on the cool, clear night air, all define summertime. Don’t forget the buzzing song of the cicadas on a very hot, muggy day.
If you are an early riser, the sight of the sun coming up augurs a great day ahead. A beautiful sunset over the harbor is a work of art and soothes the soul like that Seurat painting. The chiming of the Center School clock on the hour and the serenade of the congregational church bells bring back memories of summers past, like the seductive jingle of the ice-cream truck approaching the beach. Beach Boys tunes blaring on the car radio were the soundtrack of my high school years.
I miss the sound of the Buzzards Bay foghorn on a foggy morning, and the fire horn that blew twice at 1:00 pm every day. (I never understood that.) I even miss the roar of jets from Otis Air Force base flying over, breaking the sound barrier.
When we are young, we don’t pay much attention to the sights and sounds of summer. I guess it is Mother Nature’s way of saving them until we are old, when we have more time to enjoy our little piece of paradise.
I know what you are thinking … “Did I miss it?” No complaints about something, no sarcasm or a failed attempt at humor. Not this week.
Enjoy the summer.
Mattapoisett resident Dick Morgado is an artist and happily retired writer. His newspaper columns appeared for many years in daily newspapers around Boston.
Thoughts on…
By Dick Morgado
