Opinion | It’s Too Late for Summer Now

I neglected to make plans for the summer. This obviously should have been worked out months ago. According to one market research firm, 56 percent of Americans surveyed in May were planning to take a vacation this summer, despite overtourism and sky-high prices.

All around me people are busy relaxing. Somehow, they arranged to spend their weekends in July at the beach and are away in August. Maybe they found a cheap share on Fire Island or met an older couple who lets them use their place on Fishers in exchange for watering the plants.

Clearly, they were probably on it last summer, which is the new spring, when all the good places get got.

As for me, I didn’t key into any of the warnings — the lists of must-try ice cream pop-ups and which beach towels to buy. The internet sets up a constant swirl of seasonal prep and appreciation — get ready, get ready, enjoy it, indulge, it’s the last gasp — and then suddenly, it’s gone, and it’s time to review the highs and lows.

Maybe seasonal shape shifting has knocked me off my pegs. Winter is snowless, spring is short, summer seems to have stretched outward, its oppressive heat hovers over the full calendar year like a threat. Now — who knew? — August is here and I haven’t begun to make the most of the season.

I haven’t been to the beach or the pool or the lake. The Weber grill is covered in dead leaves and there’s a wasp nest back there that I’ve been meaning to call someone (who?) to remove. I’ve spent no time on a boat, on an outdoor chaise or nestled in a hammock. I’ve worn neither gingham nor seersucker nor floppy hat. I forgot to obsess over Lyme disease, but it doesn’t matter because I have yet to venture into a summer meadow or grassy field.