I remember just thinking as a kid that summer days were all endless. But as an adult, I watch the azimuth of the sun a bit fretfully, and I noted how high it was today. Tomorrow it will be imperceptibly lower, and in a few weeks those attuned to such things (Cindi and I both are) will feel the darkness growing again - that the azimuth will not be quite as high nor the journey quite so long from sunrise to sunset. I really do love each season in its turn, but it's an image of life in this fallen age to me that the very day that summer officially arrives marks the beginning of its deterioration, a descent into the cold and darkness. Here all our joys are tinged with sorrows - but they point beyond themselves.
What earthly joy remains untouched by grief?
What glory stands forever on the earth?
Frail shadows - all, delusive dreams;
Which death will one day sweep away.
But in the light of Your countenance, O Christ,
And in the enjoyment of Your beauty,
Give rest to those whom You have chosen and taken
For You are the Lover of mankind. -- St. John of Damascus
There IS a summer-time coming that will have no end - a true rebirth of the creation, a Palingensia, as our Lord referred to it in Matthew's Gospel, chapter 19. Each swiftly passing earthly summer reminds us of the Day without Evening in the Kingdom of our Father.