The arrival of summer solstice never fails to make me melancholy. I should be excited about the longest day of the year, the hours and hours of sunshine that make up summer. I do love the hours of sunshine, but there is also the sense that summer is slipping away. I look back at what I have been doing every summer and it is usually nothing. I work and I go to church and I catch a few movies, but nothing to write about in the "How I Spent My Summer" essay everyone, whether in school or out, has to present every fall. I haven't traveled, I haven't seen anything of interest, I have just worked and eaten and slept, which makes it no different than any other time of the year. And I have no great plans for the remainder of this summer, just working and eating and sleeping, the usual. I have no way to savor the remaining days of summer, the remaining hours of sunlight and warmth, before the autumn arrives and hints at the impending winter hibernation.