George
Being a kid it was always obvious when it was officially summer. It was simple, in the last week of July you were given a date when the summer holidays started and that is when summer began. You got six weeks off. One of which was normally spent away somewhere in the UK, or (if your parents were doing well for themselves) somewhere more exotic, like Spain or Greece. I always remember summers as a kid feeling like they lasted a lifetime, as opposed to just six weeks, mind you the thought of having six weeks off now is an absolute dream. But my point is, that those six weeks were so clearly defined as summer that no other start or end was needed.
As everyone grew up, the definition of summer began to shift. As a kid it meant six weeks off, as a uni student it meant more like three months off; unless like me you had to work (bummer). Then in that first horrid internship that you have after uni, summer referred to that one week off your employer would allow you to have in August, which if you were lucky you could just about scrap enough money together to go to somewhere in Spain for. Finally, in more mature adulthood you likely have a number of annual leave days each year, only some of which you can use for summer. This begs the question: when does summer begin?
Firstly, I am aware that June, July and August are considered the summer months and summer solstice (the official beginning of summer is around June 21st). I am also painfully aware of the fact that where I am from (England) we also tend to refer to the one week we have of sun a year as summer; even though this can sometimes be in the middle of Feb. What I am attempting to reference to in this article is when does summer truly begin for you? Because I think the answer is when you want it too.
Picture this: you and two of your best mates are drinking Aperol spritz's in the sun in a pub garden. You are saying cheers and laughing and joking. The sun is blazing down and you are all wearing sunglasses. What if I told you that this was actually a true story about me in late February, also wearing a thick winter coat and jeans as the temperature was barely ten degrees? But hey, the sun and the atmosphere made you instantly think of summer, didn't it?
I have another scenario for you. You are on an exotic island somewhere, you have been swimming in crystal-clear waters all day. You still have soft white sand in between your toes from being on the beach all day, which you are getting all over your apartment. Your friends are cracking open crisps and fruity wine on the balcony, as you all take turns showering before getting ready. The air is a hot thirty-degree mix of sea, flowers and various fruity tones. Again, you're thinking of summer, aren't you?
The situations described above are almost total opposites, apart from the warmth and joyous atmosphere that you get from reading each description. This is why I think summer is more of a vibe, of the smell of a drink, and ultimately an atmosphere. We spend so much time as humans defining the joyous elements of life, like summer, by school definitions or season definitions that we never sit back and just enjoy them. Imagine how much summer you could enjoy if you just decided that summer starts when you want it to.
