In the northern hemisphere, daytime lasts the longest of the whole year on Summer Solstice, which falls on June 21 this year. Scorching sun alternates with pouring rain after Summer Solstice. This period of rainy days that seems to never end is called by Chinese people “plum rains”.
“Plum rains”, nicknamed for the season when the fruit ripens, often hits Yangtze-Huaihe region during this time as it gradually moves north. Unfortunately, such sultry and damp weather is the perfect condition for mosquitoes and mold, making “plum rains” a big annoyance for people living in the south.
“Eat dumplings on the Winter Solstice and noodles the Summer Solstice” is a tradition of many Chinese people. Noodles made of the newly-reaped wheat during this season will pep people up with its refreshing aroma. Just go and have a bowl of noodles to keep discomfort brought by summer heat away, and don’t forget to take an umbrella with you.
Read By Pan Huirui and Zou Minghao
BGM: Sonatina No 2 in F Major Allegro - Joel Cummins
In Summer Time
Paul Laurence Dunbar
When summer time has come, and all
The world is in the magic thrall
Of perfumed airs that lull each sense
To fits of drowsy indolence;
When skies are deepest blue above,
And flow'rs aflush,—then most I love
To start, while early dews are damp,
And wend my way in woodland tramp
Where forests rustle, tree on tree,
And sing their silent songs to me;
Where pathways meet and pathways part,—
To walk with Nature heart by heart,
Till wearied out at last I lie
Where some sweet stream steals singing by
A mossy bank; where violets vie
In color with the summer sky,—
Or take my rod and line and hook,
And wander to some darkling brook,
Where all day long the willows dream,
And idly droop to kiss the stream,
And there to loll from morn till night—
Unheeding nibble, run, or bite—
Just for the joy of being there
And drinking in the summer air,
The summer sounds, and summer sights,
That set a restless mind to rights
When grief and pain and raging doubt
Of men and creeds have worn it out;
The birds' song and the water's drone,
The humming bee's low monotone,
The murmur of the passing breeze,
And all the sounds akin to these,
That make a man in summer time
Feel only fit for rest and rhyme.
Joy springs all radiant in my breast;
Though pauper poor, than king more blest,
The tide beats in my soul so strong
That happiness breaks forth in song,
And rings aloud the welkin blue
With all the songs I ever knew.
O time of rapture! time of song!
How swiftly glide thy days along
Adown the current of the years,
Above the rocks of grief and tears!
'Tis wealth enough of joy for me
In summer time to simply be.
