We Were Built for Summer
Weekend Reads v. 25 May 2026
Last week, I joined two colleagues for a train ride to Philadelphia. We huddled around a table in the dining car and knocked down emails on our laptops as we barreled north for our afternoon meeting. At one point one of us remarked, “Is it just me, or is it hot today?”
Not one of us had bothered to check the weather report for Philly. When we stepped outside the station to trade train for taxi, we realized we were in for a scorcher.
The forecasted high of 92 degrees was the talk of the office. People apologized for the heat, and people predicted an early office closing because of the heat. Summer was here, and people were annoyed. But you couldn’t deny the way the heat called for us to pivot, deploying fans as far as the eye could see and having an excuse to be more casual as we left our blazers on the back of our chairs. The heat was a unifier, and it removed any attempt at pretense.
I listened to the grumbling, and I recognized that I used to dread the heat of summer, too.
As a kid, summer was pure magic for the simple fact that I had no school. Late nights followed long days roaming the neighborhood by bike. The only strict rules I encountered involved the pool. No running! Don’t swim after you eat! Other than that, the days were mine to spend as I wanted, and that freedom was glorious. Those loose and lazy summers of childhood abruptly ended after college when I moved out west to follow my dreams and took a job as a lowly assistant at a record label.
Now a newly minted grown up, summertime for me meant laborious stretches of days inside frigid office buildings. I’d dress for the office climate, and that temperature called for jeans and hoodies — a far cry from the usual summer attire. (The music industry has a gloriously casual dress code) After spending all day in a freezing-cold air-conditioned space, being outside felt like walking around in a Hasbro Easy-Bake Ultimate Oven. And because my apartment was ancient and lacked central air, I remained uncomfortable as I spent the evening atop the covers with fans whirling the stale air around me.
Somehow summer had become a tedious thing, full stop. I chased air conditioning, making frequent stops to the grocery store or taking in back-to-back movies. I stuffed weekends with activities because I thought that’s what a successful summer was all about. I scheduled lots of beach time even though I’m not really a beach person. Back-to-back cookouts across town had me spending more time on the 10 Freeway than at the actual cookouts. Summer does not usher in hibernation in the way winter does, but the season does invite you to take things at a leisurely pace, and there was nothing leisurely about those summers.
Summer had lost its magic and become something to be battled. Looking back, I realize I treated summer as though it were spring or autumn. Those are two seasons naturally brim with milestones and reasons to go, go, go. Pollen season aside, spring wakes us up and brings with it an infectious energy to do, do, do. Autumn starts winding down the clock in anticipation of winter, and as a result we do, do, do.
By contrast, the point of summer is not to test our limits but rather to show us our limits, and a brutally hot day sure will point out your limits.
It wasn’t until I returned to South Carolina after many summers away that I rediscovered my fondness for summer and realized the gift summer could be to me.
Summer vibes are informal, casual, and impromptu. The heat makes allowances for you to show up in flip flops and to overlook hair tousled by a car ride with the windows down. Summer says it’s OK to come as you are and don’t mind the mess. Summer invites you to lose track of time staring at a piercing blue sky stuffed with puffy white clouds, pondering big questions – or ponder the small ones – because summer isn’t one to force an agenda on you. Summer sneaks in one more adventure by keeping the sunlight going at 8pm. Summer rewards you with the sweetest fruit of the year.
The next time we feel the brutality of summer, let’s stop to consider if we are doing too much. A successful summer day wraps up with feelings of being happy and tired, ready for a restful sleep. Let our favorite summer vacation photos show the effects of summer on our faces – glistening skin, beaming smiles, and the look of people who slowed down to savor the moment.
If your inbox looks anything like mine, you’re probably being inundated with emails about sales this weekend. I’m not in the market for anything, so I’m deleting all those lists that round up all the sales. I am, however, very interested in lists of things to do or watch like this list of movies that set the tone for summer. These are all so good!
I’ve lost count of the number of articles and studies sounding the alarm on creatures small and large on the verge of extinction, so the announcement about scientists discovering 1,121 new marine species was a welcome change.
This is a great essay on buying things for life (and also embracing the art of repair).
These are absolutely stunning plant-based cakes that ship.
Continuing with the Food By Mail category (at least in the U.S.), please enjoy these perfect Medjool dates from Southern California.
I’ve been reading about the benefits of jumping, and now I’m wondering if I need a rebounder in my life?
Remember that your brain is basically a raccoon … and other thoughts on self-compassion. Boy did this essay hit home for me.
“Nothing sends me spiraling into self-hatred faster than perceived negative feedback from another person. A weird tone. A rude comment. Genuine criticism. A delayed email response. Being a school administrator means existing in a constant stream of feedback and emotion from other people, and if I let it, it could absolutely swallow me whole.
When I catch the spiral starting, I try to pause before assigning myself responsibility for everyone’s emotions. I check in with myself:
What story am I telling myself right now?
What am I actually responsible for here?
Is this situation worth the amount of energy I’m giving it?
I pride myself on being reflective and accountable, but self-compassion sometimes means zooming out enough to recognize that not every problem is entirely mine. Sometimes I am simply the nearest available surface onto which another person is projecting their bad day, stress, insecurity, or frustration.
And then there’s the most important question of all: do I even care?
Do I respect this person?
Do I admire their character or judgment?
Do they actually know enough to evaluate the situation fairly?
If the answer is yes, I slow down and listen. If not, I try not to sacrifice my nervous system for the situation. I remind myself: “That is not my ministry.” Before I dedicate hours of emotional energy to feeling terrible, I try to make sure it’s actually earned.” (Source)
Bookmarking Boutique for my next big vacation. It’s billed as an upscale replacement for Airbnb with every listing vetting for excellent architecture and design. Feels like a chance to live in a magazine, if you ask me.
Speaking of vacations, this family owned hotel and restaurant on a small Swedish island looks absolutely wonderful.
“Self-positioned as “Sweden’s first boutique farmstay,” the 22 individually designed rooms are furnished with vintage pieces by Alvar Aalto, Carl Malmsten, and Charlotte Perriand, as well as artworks brought in by the family, which lend the warmth of a private home.” (Source)
Thankfully, I am not in the middle of a home renovation, but if I was I’d have these incredibly sleek outlet fixtures from Prado added to my life.
This promises to be the mocktail of the summer. (Also, is it weird to anyone else how certain drinks and side dishes can be trendy?)
Why the best writing advice is often the weirdest.
The latest vacation trend reveals more and more people want to leave civilization behind in exchange for shooting stars and dark skies.
This would be quite the appetizer for your next BBQ. (A quick Google search reveals a lot of people have served this!)
Today is Memorial Day in the States. It’s a day we remember freedom isn’t free, and we honor the bravery and sacrifice of those who made our freedom possible. ❤️