The Flower Lady was commenting, as we sat in the barely fading light of day here in the Northern Hemisphere, that the days actually get shorter as we go through the summer. Doesn't seem right, does it? And why is the first day of summer called Midsummer's Day? Hmm? Well, I'm sure the correct answer is out there somewhere on the Intranet. Let me know what you find out.
It's been a beautiful June, albeit warm. Not enough of those crisp, blue, fall-like skies and "that high-builded cloud, moving at summer's pace." June can be very beautiful here in our little valley; it can also bring two weeks at a time of misery-inducing rain and 55-degree temps, just when you've been entertaining visions of lolling in the sun. But after October, it's our most reliably enjoyable month.
And things are bustin' out. The catbird and I have been dueling over our bounteous crop of blueberries. He likes them just a bit tangier than I do. But the FL and I have managed to cop our fair share. And, across the way, a young lady of our acquaintance has found her true beau, and wedding plans are afoot! I am, it is true, "neither father nor lover," but having listened to her tales of the trials and tribulations of young adulthood for some years now, I feel a proprietary interest. Like the country squire marrying off his parlor maid to the village smithy. June, young love, hopes and dreams...rather makes the heart melt, doesn't it?
No comments:
Post a Comment