Growing up in the rural north, I never experienced the "silent summer" brought on by air-conditioning. My mother had the windows open at every hour of every day--unless a great and gusty gale came through the mountains. The sounds of summer became un-heard background music.
But down here in the Deep South, in metro-Atlanta, we keep those windows shut tightly for four months. The hum of the blessed AC drowns out summer sounds.
And last week we opened the windows. Now I am sitting at the dining room table in the dark--I hear anxious squirrels chattering, endless varieties of crickets and cicadas chirping, and a flock of geese flying north to my parents' house. The air comes in cool and clear. It reminds me of the wisdom of the prophets and of the Church--a time without intensifies the joy of time with.
After a summer of having a newborn, illness, heat, and the grief that comes with the cruelty of heresy--I am overjoyed to open wide the windows. Let in the cool air and praise.