As I write, a cool breeze blows through the milking barn. The doors to either side are wide open, the dogs laid flat on the cool concrete floor. Outside, although it is just mid-morning, the sky is a clear, pale blue and the meadows beyond already golden. These back-to-back days without change remind me of the summer of 1976 when our family slept out on the balcony for a full six weeks on a row of mattresses shaded by an old acacia. We woke to wood pigeons in the branches above us and I remember most clearly the feeling of being part of a forever summer. 

Today, the same feelings are tinged with an unease that we have not acted fast enough collectively. The climate is already changed and moving unpredictably enough for a summer of blue skies or the promise of rain to be an unknown and something we will have to learn to mitigate. These are new territories and we will need to plant more trees to cool the streets and to shade our outside spaces and think about those trees being chosen for an unpredictable future. We will have to experiment with what we grow to eat and grow for the challenges of the unexpected and to lean into building as much diversity and as many options as possible. We will have to adapt and reframe a more sustainable future and most importantly remember to think together, because none of this is something we can solve on our own.