Ode to the Beach Girl’s Summer

A Love Letter to Still Mornings, Gentle Water, and the Return to Self
By Jody Pear

​There is a kind of summer morning that lives deep in my soul --
the kind that arrives quietly, wrapped in birdsong and golden light,
when the lake is still and the world hasn’t fully stirred.

It’s in these early hours that I feel most myself:
barefoot, coffee in hand, wrapped in the scent of sun-warmed flowers
and the hush of gentle water.

This is more than a season to me.
It’s a feeling, a rhythm, a return.

This is an ode to the summer mornings I love --
and to the girl I become when I let myself be held by them.

Ode to the Lake Girl’s Summer
I believe in mornings that arrive slowly --
in golden light filtering through treetops,
in garden blooms kissed by the sun,
in the soft hush of waves folding into shore.

I believe in bare feet on warm wood floors,
in shutters flung open to greet the breeze,
in coffee cradled between palms
as birdsong spills into the stillness.

I believe in the sacred pause at the water’s edge --
cool waves at my ankles, sunlight on my face,
and that moment — that moment --
when everything is quiet enough to hear my own heart.

This is my summer.
Not just a season, but a soul state.
Blue and white and sun-washed.
Gentle. Joyful. Wide open.

A place where I remember who I am.
A place where I return to love.
​
May we all have places that bring us home to ourselves --
places where light filters through trees,
where water kisses our ankles,
and joy rises quiet and steady from the earth.

​This is my Lake Girl Summer.
This is my Morning Joy.