Although we are ten days or so into summer, it seems we are far behind. Many (note I did not say “most”) years we have a lead-up; early June stretches of Cerulean sky and dry, hot days. This year however, the season limped in on crutches, advancing a few steps then pausing, erect but unable to release itself from the immobile cast of a damp, cloudy spring. So now, on the first of July, when we’ve finally experienced a three day stretch during which we’ve risen to sun, it all feels new.
We were still using the down comforter last week; it remains folded at the foot of the bed. I am unaccustomed to open windows, or the sound of the Carolina Wren in the hydrangea bush just outside our bedroom. Between my work schedule and the cold, I didn’t spend much time in the rock garden until yesterday and when I climbed up, the crop of mature weeds I encountered there startled me—unlike me, they appear to have flourished in the cool weather. As I crouched among the ledges, yanking out tangled clover and repositioning the foxgloves and sun drops that seeded themselves wherever, the sun hauled itself over the pines lining the yard, and for the first time this year, summer seeped through my pores.
So early today, when the house held a residual chill but again the sun was out, I brewed myself a cup of coffee, sprinkled yogurt with granola and clambered to the top of our ledge where I plunked myself down, barely flinching at the touch of cool granite.
During my breakfast, bees bumbled into daisies and cleome. Below me, budding monarda and yellow coreopsis dueled for space and a tinge of blue seeped through green hydrangea blossoms. A chipmunk skittered over a lower rock, freezing for long seconds on encountering me. When I lifted my coffee mug, he popped beneath a stone and I smiled at his quick disappearance, at the taste of the sweetened beverage, at red snapdragons bowing in the soft breeze, but mostly, at the season that ripened while I worked at the cheese shop, and now oozes warmth through my cold-weary bones.
During my breakfast, bees bumbled into daisies and cleome. Below me, budding monarda and yellow coreopsis dueled for space and a tinge of blue seeped through green hydrangea blossoms. A chipmunk skittered over a lower rock, freezing for long seconds on encountering me. When I lifted my coffee mug, he popped beneath a stone and I smiled at his quick disappearance, at the taste of the sweetened beverage, at red snapdragons bowing in the soft breeze, but mostly, at the season that ripened while I worked at the cheese shop, and now oozes warmth through my cold-weary bones.
Happy Fourth all! What are your weekend plans?
