In the last dark days of the year, when cold winds blew and icy fingers of winter were encircled around every Cottonwood and Russian Sage, an elderly woman gazed longingly out into the ebony blackness of night.  Rubbing her arthritic finger joints, she let out a sigh that seemed to originate from the depths of her soul.  Distractedly, she brushed her thick ivory hair back from her forehead with her gnarled hand and continued to gaze out into the night obscured yard.  Her clear sapphire eyes did not seem to be viewing the blackness, but rather seemed to pierce though it, to another layer of time.

            What did this woman see through the ice rimed sticks of bare dormant vegetation?  She saw all the glorious sunlight of an early summer day.  A day where the heat had begun to shimmer in waves around each leaf and flower imbuing each plant with a golden sheen.  Green leaves whispered to each other in a breath of warm air and flowers nodded greetings to each other in colors almost too vibrant to behold with human eyes.  Colors abounded everywhere--oranges so deep you could taste the succulent sweet fruit while rich purples reminded one of royalty.  There were yellows like soft butter melting in the sun and whites pristine and unspoiled.  Gnarled and ungainly branches were clothed once again in shades of lime, deep forests, and emeralds.  Flowers, like jewelry and decorations on the green clothing, looked resplendent in all their finery.  Bees and butterflies happily flew to each new flower; humming along as to some song only they knew.  Peaches were beginning to form on the tree, but were still hard and green.  But one could imagine them coming alive with sweetness and juice that dripped down your chin when you bit into one.  Tomatoes would change from their hard green ways as well and become just as juicy as the peaches, but with an acid bite that no supermarket cousin could ever attain.  The small patch of grass looked well-tended, emerald, lush, and cool.  It was just inviting, even begging people to remove their shoes and sink their toes into the blades of velvety softness.  The roses sent up spicy alluring smells while wilder plants sent up sage and fresh scents of desert hills.

            An icicle suddenly dislodged from the eave above the window and smashed to the frozen ground brought the woman out of her soft summer memories back to the cold, stark, darkness of winter.  Sighing once again she turned from the now depressing garden, which had been so full of life, a few months prior.  Turned from the full moon as it bathed the peach tree and roses in a mellow light revealing their naked and lifeless appearing shapes.  The grass now appeared silvery, sharp, and frigid.   It looked as if it would cut any bare flesh that came into contact with it.

            Every year it seemed to the woman that the winters grew increasingly longer while the summers were gone in the blink of an eye.  And every year the darkness, not the cold or the seeming lifeless plant life depressed here more and more.  The only bright spot in the dark was the sun called Christmas.  The time of winter when she forgot any gloominess and was caught up in the frivolity of buying gifts for her children and her myriad grandchildren.  When she would either go to one of their houses or they would come visit her.  Her heart would then be full of joy and love; surrounded by those she loved most in the world.  There would be the times of assisting small hands in the ancient arts of cookie baking, fudge preparing, and cheese cake concocting, turning the kitchen into a play land of  delicious smells of cinnamon and baked goods.  Food would be prepared by someone dear and a communion of peace would belong with all present.  There was also one other piece of knowledge Christmas would impart with her.  The fact that after Christmas, after the winter solstice, the days would become marginally longer until spring and summer would arrive once more.  But, oh it seemed so long with no appreciable change in daylight for at least a month.

            So, when her youngest granddaughter, who had just turned five, asked what she wanted for Christmas, she had immediately replied – Summer.  Her granddaughter did not know quite what to make of that, but then adults were always saying strange things. 

            Christmas Eve eventually made its sparkling appearance.  After the families had

made their way home and her eldest son promised to pick her up the next day for dinner; she found she could not fall asleep.  Instead she gazed out the bedroom window and wished for summer, for her garden.  Sleep finally descended on her as the last coals in the wood stove dulled and blinked out.

            Waking in the morning, bright sunlight, almost warm sunlight, streamed through her bedroom.  She got up slowly and stretched; her muscles and joints not as stiff as the cold morning before.  Perhaps the weather had changed for a few days.  But then she swung her gaze outside expecting to see the bare twigs and branches of winter.  Instead, to her disbelieving eyes she saw leafy trees and shrubs and flowers open to the sun drinking in the life-giving light.  With her mouth hanging open, she made it to her front door and stepped outside barefoot where instead of the shock of ice to her skin she only felt warmth.  Grinning maniacally now, she walked through the welcoming grass and bent low to smell a lemon yellow rose.  Peaches hung fat and ripe on the branch and she plucked one and not hesitating took a huge juicy bite, the juice running from the corners of her mouth.  A butterfly floated lazily by and landed on a nearby Daisy.  The colors dazzled her eyes and leaves caressed her skin as she ran around the yard as she had when she was a little girl.  Then she realized that she had received her most cherished Christmas gift – Summer.