It was a few days ago that I gave up on my Summer Ideal ... something that has wafted its way through Let's Talk via mentions in some shape or form through the years, especially in past laments about summer going by too fast.

Actually, its length hasn't been my main problem with summer. The main problem is — here we go again — expectation vs. reality. Or should I say ideal vs. reality.

Every year, as winter starts to give way to spring, my spirits begin to lift, buoyed by thoughts of carefree days spent in sun dresses and cute sandals and big hats. Walks in the park, perhaps with DJ Jazzy Jeff & The Fresh Prince's "Summertime" rap hit playing on iTunes. Tending a garden in which every seed planted or every plant purchased grows to Instagram-post-worthy, "Land That Time Forgot" proportions. Shooting the breeze with friends or family at a picnic. Sitting on a stoop or bench, watching the children make sidewalk chalk art. Watching the fireflies as day turns into night. Taking a couple photo or family photo on the beach at sunset. And my big-time Summer Ideal daydream: Attending a white-attire party at a palatial Caribbean beach house, sipping a cool, exotic drink while "Breathe" by smooth-jazz recording artist Paul Hardcastle plays in the background.

The Summer Ideal hovered at the back of my mind despite signs that the summer of '22 would fall a bit short of my fancies.

Sure enough, it's been hot enough to cook/bake a whole dinner on the sidewalk (I write this hoping that the temperatures did indeed ease toward the end of last week, as forecast) ... that is, if one can afford proper dinner fixins, inflation being as bad as it is. And if one isn't wary of venturing out amid the risks presented by existing and emerging viruses, angry people with guns, reckless drivers and others who seem to be living out all the "Purge" movies at once. There's no money to go to the beach. Or there's money, but gas is still too high and/or the flight is subject to cancellation.

Ideal: fancy white-attire party on the beach. Reality: hunkering in/working from home; wearing cutoff shorts, maybe sipping sugar-free punch; venturing out for little more than errands, appointments, church and the occasional work-related event; surfing social-media photos of friends/connections who are vacationing and at least appearing to live the Summer Ideal; and dreading the next trip to the grocery store, where even Vacation Bible School refreshment fare can cost north of a C-note. Forcing myself not to return to the plant store to shore up the balcony container garden in which so many plant purchases have upped and died. (Regarding that recent column about being hooked on Amazon Prime: I had to do a little unhooking after seeing that the prices of all my subscription items had made like hot-air balloons and ascended.)

And I haven't seen a firefly in ... gosh, decades.

At some point each summer I quietly and unofficially let go, as I did the other day, with that familiar sense of foolishness for still harboring the Summer Ideal, knowing what I do about the disappointment that's likely to elbow lofty, ludicrous daydreams sharply in the ribs. As before, I began the process of recovery, counting blessings and reminding myself that life could be a lot worse.

And hey, I did get to dress up in something cute and attend a few carefree-seeming events, including a white-attire party, even though it wasn't alongside the Caribbean and the DJ didn't put Paul on the turntable.

For anyone else who falls prey annually to the Summer Ideal, my hope is that we all can spend these final weeks of summer seeking and basking in the joys of Summer Reality ... which, despite hell-high temperatures and prices and an abundance of bummer news reports, exist.

One of those joys: thoughts of fall. Brilliant-hued foliage, chrysanthemum pots on the porch/balcony, burnt-orange sweaters, pumpkin-spice everything, football-game tailgate parties, state fairs and all ...

Send the ideal email! Hit me here: hwilliams@adgnewsroom.com

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