Warm, sunny weather makes you come alive after a long, dark winter, writes Pam FramptonPublished Jun 11, 2025 • Last updated 1 hour ago • 4 minute readLate spring rain beads on crab apple flowers. Pam FramptonMy neighbours have come out of hibernation, and so have I.People you rarely saw during the harsh, closed-in months of winter are out in their backyards in shorts and T-shirts and sunglasses, tilling soil, feeding chickens, watering gardens, painting things that need to be painted.Summer mode is energetic and industrious, but also relaxed, the heat of the sun sinking into our grateful bones.THIS CONTENT IS RESERVED FOR SUBSCRIBERS ONLY.Subscribe now to access this story and more:Unlimited access to the website and appExclusive access to premium content, newsletters and podcastsFull access to the e-Edition app, an electronic replica of the print edition that you can share, download and comment onEnjoy insights and behind-the-scenes analysis from our award-winning journalistsSupport local journalists and the next generation of journalistsSUBSCRIBE TO UNLOCK MORE ARTICLES.Subscribe or sign in to your account to continue your reading experience.Unlimited access to the website and appExclusive access to premium content, newsletters and podcastsFull access to the e-Edition app, an electronic replica of the print edition that you can share, download and comment onEnjoy insights and behind-the-scenes analysis from our award-winning journalistsSupport local journalists and the next generation of journalistsRegister to unlock more articles.Create an account or sign in to continue your reading experience.Access additional stories every monthShare your thoughts and join the conversation in our commenting communityGet email updates from your favourite authorsSign In or Create an AccountorArticle contentYou’re chatting over the fence again, catching up on gossip, inquiring about children and ailments and aging parents.Your corner of the world has come alive. A fine near-summer’s day in Petty Harbour, N.L. Pam FramptonEarly summer arrivalA handful of fine days heading towards summer is like a gift — not to be counted on, at least not in St. John’s. How quickly you forget the misery of Junes past when the sun hits its zenith and you have your hands in the dirt and you are uncovering and weeding and pruning and helping things grow. Trickling sweat, smudges of dirt on ankles and wrists, skin scratched by rose bush thorns, reddening welts from the zinging black flies — these are just testament to how much you’ve accomplished, how much you’re enjoying yourself.An early start to summer changes your outlook. The ability to walk without gloves, mitts, scarves, heavy coats and boots is freeing, both mentally and physically. Strangers are more apt to say hello. Birdsong is amplified, fresh-leaved trees quivering with hidden, flitting movements.Article contentRead More PAM FRAMPTON: Learning to appreciate the wonders of winter PAM FRAMPTON: Learning to love the rain PAM FRAMPTON: The scents I miss since COVID stole my sense of smell These are some of the sounds of summer: bicycle bells, hammers on roofs and snatches of voices from work crews, the slap of paint on wooden palings, the shrilling of starlings amid their never-ceasing food-delivery service, the dry flutter of their wings as they ferry worms to the nests hidden in the eaves of the shed.Here are some others: a loud radio blaring ’80s music as someone vacuums their car in a driveway, the rhythmic pounding of runners’ feet on the sidewalk, windchimes tinkling in the light breeze, the creaking of swing chains as a child in the playground pushes out with their feet, a faraway look in their eyes as they reach for the wide blue sky.The hiss of sprinklers released onto thirsty lawns and garden beds.Article contentThe drone of lawnmowers, the buzzing of grass trimmers, the high-pitched raucousness of chainsaws.The tinkle of metal tags as dogs trot by, urging their people onwards toward park or lake, the two-step of a couple’s walking sticks as they follow the paved, curved path around the pond. The clean flap of sheets on a line.Summer sounds different, looks different, smells different. There is so much more activity, so much life and vigour and busyness, as people reclaim their outdoor spaces. Lilac trees can grow sideways in St. John’s. Pam FramptonSmells of the seasonCould anything be more intoxicating than the perfume of pale purple lilacs in full bloom?Perhaps the meaty sizzle of the year’s first burgers on the grill. The herbaceous scent of fresh-cut grass. The clean mineral smell of warm rain on stones. The bewitching cologne of old-fashioned white roses. The warm, woodsy smells of oregano and thyme awakening in the garden.Article contentIn our small neck of the woods, there is a glorious unfurling of crab apple flowers, which go from small red buds to luxurious lacy white blossoms in a matter of a few warm days.The morphing of peonies from sturdy red arrow-like shoots to expansive, green-leaf shrubs, whose tight buds hold within them whole worlds of exquisite beauty.The columbine’s petals are beginning to open up into delicate fairy lanterns, as the daffodils nod approvingly like women in showy bonnets.The hostas — who surely prefer to be called plantain lilies — are unrolling their luxurious curved leaves to funnel rain and dew into their green, green hearts. A late spring shower leaves the bark of trees stippled with drops of moisture that magnify the texture of the surface. A mighty pine offers shade from the warming sun. Pam FramptonOn the park-like grounds behind a school, a tree bristles with children, their excited voices coming from inside the canopy, as they climb its sturdy branches.Walking by with a friend, I am stirred by thoughts of my own tree-climbing days, of coming home hot and tired and sticky with evergreen sap, but still thrilled at the exhilaration of having reached a high perch.I smile then, at the memory and wonder of childish summer days that seemed to stretch endlessly out ahead, with time and space to explore.Golden hour upon hour of sun and sky and woods and sea, powered by Popsicles and imagination.Pam Frampton lives in St. John’s. Email pamelajframpton@gmail.com | X: @Pam_Frampton | Bluesky: @pamframpton.bsky.socialArticle content
PAM FRAMPTON: Why summers when you come to your senses
