We are smack in the middle of summer camp season.
Here in northern Arizona, our days have been filled with sunshine, cool breezes, blue skies, and just enough blessed rain to make everything feel alive.
And yet…like so many adults, I spent the majority of the month inside working while the season quietly unfolded outside my window. Most of my sunshine came through the open moonroof as I drove my son back and forth to theater camp over the past few weeks.
The month simply breezed by. Whish!
This morning it struck me that there are only so many summers in a lifetime. Every season arrives carrying gifts that can only be opened during that particular window of time. And while there will always be another email to answer or another project waiting on Monday morning, there won’t always be another summer with my son still eager to share adventures with me.
In just six short weeks, he’ll be back in school.
So I asked myself a simple question:
What would I genuinely regret not doing—even in some small way—before this season slips away?
Here’s what made my list.
1. Grow something we can eat.
I was far too late starting seeds this spring, so instead I gave myself a $100 budget and headed to the nursery for vegetable starts. I came home having spent less than $80—with four different varieties of tomatoes, cukes, peppers, herbs, and more. Colby and I spent a sunny afternoon planting them together in our rolling elevated planters. Now he’s taken on being master waterer for us.
There’s something deeply hopeful about tending food you’ll someday eat.
2. Visit the farmer’s market.
I miss Saturday mornings wandering among local growers. Buying food from people who nurtured it just feels different. It slows me down. It connects me to my community. Somehow the vegetables taste better simply because I know where they came from.
Goal: Three visits before summer ends.
3. Celebrate Independence Day well.
For the past few years, Colby and I have found our perfect fireworks-viewing spot. This year feels especially meaningful as our nation celebrates its 250th anniversary. We’ve already decided on our menu: apple pie and Coca-Cola beneath the fireworks. Some memories deserve a little extra ceremony.
4. Put our feet into a wild swimming hole.
Not a swimming pool. Not a resort. A creek. A river. A hidden place where the water has been flowing long before we arrived.
5. Take a road trip.
We have a long weekend planned later this summer, and I’m crossing my fingers that everything comes together.
Sometimes simply leaving town reminds you that life is much bigger than your routines.
6. Make sun tea.
It’s a five-minute task. I’ve somehow managed to miss doing it all summer.
I adore sun tea. Every glass tastes as though Mother Nature steeped it herself—a simple little elixir infused with sunshine, patience, and joy.
7. Make something with our hands.
We’ve already painted a garland of wooden stars in red, white, and blue that now hangs across our fireplace. It wasn’t perfect. It was better than perfect. It was ours.
8. Finally hang the patriotic string lights.
They’ve been sitting on my counter since February. Enough said.
9. Bake with summer fruit.
Last autumn I finally learned how to make a truly wonderful pie crust. This summer I want to put that skill to good use. A peach pie. A berry pie. Maybe a nectarine cobbler. Something homemade that tastes like July.
10. Spend an evening beneath the stars.
Not rushing back inside. Not checking my phone.
Just sitting on the balcony…or maybe even dozing beneath the night sky for a while. If I happen to catch a meteor shower, wonderful. If not, the stars themselves are enough.
Goal: Three evenings before summer fades.
When we’re children, adults build summer camp schedules for us because they know these fleeting months matter.
Maybe, as grown-ups, we need to become our own camp counselors. Not by filling every weekend with activities.
But by intentionally asking: “What experiences would make this season feel fully lived?”
Because someday we’ll remember the tomatoes we grew, the pie we baked, the creek where we cooled our feet, and the stars we watched with someone we love.
The emails? Not so much.
So tell me… What summer experiences are quietly calling your name? What would you be genuinely disappointed to miss before autumn arrives?
I’d love to hear what’s on your own grown-up summer camp list.