Tiny gold sparks cascaded across the night sky like a shimmering waterfall flung from the clouds. Bursts of red, green, and white followed as the gold faded, and with each boom and crackle the heavens seemed to come alive.
Canada’s 150th birthday celebration was in full swing.
The music shifted gently, and as the first notes of “O Canada” rose into the evening air, my eyes found something unexpected above me.
A single pink balloon.
It drifted on the breeze, floating higher and higher, lit from behind by the dancing fireworks.
Despite the dazzling display, it was that simple balloon that took my breath away.
There was something quietly symbolic about it—untethered and untroubled, rising into the wide open sky. It felt like the perfect punctuation to a joyful long weekend and, for me, a visual marker of a new season unfolding.
Although I have lived in Canada since my wedding day twenty-seven years ago, this was the first time I truly celebrated Canada Day in this way. For many summers, our lives were anchored to summer camp: campers arriving and leaving, meals to prepare, fields to maintain, boats to ready, first-aid supplies to check, counselors to support, buses to load, registrations to process, campfires to light, songs to teach and sing, and stories to tell.
We planned and prepared for camp all year. Our rhythm was set by the camp calendar—time counted by the week of session, and rest measured in spare moments rather than whole days. It was intense and exhausting and deeply rewarding. Only someone who has walked a mile in a summer-camp staff member’s shoes can fully appreciate that unique pace.
But now it’s a new season of summers for us.
We’ve settled into a new normal and are finding real delight in it. Work is satisfying, time off feels restful, and the cycle of grey spring days giving way to clear blue summer skies has been a welcome change. Small rituals—the slow walk to the beach, sitting on a bench to watch the sun slip below the horizon—have become meaningful in a way they weren’t when every weekend was claimed by camp responsibilities.
We’ve celebrated weddings, taken leisurely strolls along the shore, savored quiet sunsets, and paused to enjoy a fireworks display without thinking about the next day’s early start. We remain grateful for the rich memories of past summers at camp—our son is serving at camp this summer, and a piece of our hearts is still there—yet the rest of the family is embracing this fresh chapter.
It feels like a season of many “firsts.”
One big first: we’re planning our first true summer vacation together. We’re heading to the Oregon Coast and are excited to explore the shoreline, breathe the ocean air, and swap our usual summer responsibilities for slow mornings and new scenery. If you have any recommendations for places to visit or things to try there, I would love to hear them.
This shift—moving from a life structured by camp seasons to one that leaves room for unhurried summer days—has been surprising and joyful. There is a freedom to choose how we spend our time now, and that choice has opened up space for simple pleasures and new memories.
PS: If you know someone serving at a summer camp, give them an extra hug, offer a word of encouragement, or say a prayer for them. Camp staff do demanding, meaningful work and a little support goes a long way.
Source of all photos in this post
PPS: I’d love to hear what you’re up to this summer. I started a new Instagram hashtag called #anewseasonofsummers if you’d like to share your own summer moments and join in.
(Technically, last summer was our first season mostly away from camp, but it felt like a blur while we were scrambling to find a new place to live. This summer already feels more intentional and full of wholesome moments.)
