There is always one day in a season that brings together all the best parts of that season (and a few of the not so best parts, but these pale by comparison). This is it -- you'll find yourself saying. The quintessential spring day! ... or winter day!
Today has summer written all over its face. Not too late in the summer -- not August summer, where the trees get a hint of tiredness in them and the wasps pick up the pace and you almost feel the urge to go school supply shopping, even if you're no longer a kid. So no, not August summer, but, instead, the true midsummer, the peak of summer, the most beautiful part of summer where you're eating the fruits and vegetables from the garden and your snipping flowers for your kitchen table and the sun is out, but not so much that you need sunscreen just to walk from the kitchen to the porch.
On the pesty side, it is also the time of mosquitoes. True, this year's crop ranks 5 on an annoyance scale of 1 to 10 and I can stand outdoors for hours on end with a hose and not be bothered, but I cannot, for example, go pick raspberries for breakfast without protective gear. Like this:
The quintessential summer day has us eating breakfast on the porch. That's a given.
It's a time (yet again) to take a look at the flowers. Assess the watering/weeding needs. A good summer day will have me out with a hose, but not too much on my hands and knees pulling out quack grass or creeping charlie. That's less fun. So, moments of admiration:
Walking down toward the sheep shed - more flowers. (Maybe I should work in a greenhouse: I really really love flowers.)
On this particular Sunday, Diane and I go to yoga class. The yoga room looks out on the prairie, my favorite teacher is there to guide us through the poses and to make it even better -- my yoga buddy from Madison is there as well. I have goodness on both sides and a view of a meadow. Bliss.
At the farmette, I take stock of our growing crop of foods. Now that we're pumping water again, I can finish watering the grape vines, the cukes, the tomatoes, the fruit trees. Our cucumber crop isn't exactly exploding (yet), but there are good signs that things are progressing.
And the tomatoes are multiplying as I speak.
(The corn is a tad on the short side still, but we planted late!)
Of course, I can just cast a look at the farmers to our north for a view of really productive vegetable farming.
But on a quintessential summer day, a truly mid-summer day, I have no complaints. The beetles haven't eaten the roses or the leaves off the cherry yet. The raspberries, buried that they are in who knows what weedy growth, still are throwing out bursts of fruit. And the flowers... I know, I know, I need to let go of this theme already. But the flowers! (My new desktop photo will have lavender in it. Here's today's favorite: )
It's hard to imagine a finer summer Sunday. Really. This is, I think, as beautiful as it gets.
Today has summer written all over its face. Not too late in the summer -- not August summer, where the trees get a hint of tiredness in them and the wasps pick up the pace and you almost feel the urge to go school supply shopping, even if you're no longer a kid. So no, not August summer, but, instead, the true midsummer, the peak of summer, the most beautiful part of summer where you're eating the fruits and vegetables from the garden and your snipping flowers for your kitchen table and the sun is out, but not so much that you need sunscreen just to walk from the kitchen to the porch.
On the pesty side, it is also the time of mosquitoes. True, this year's crop ranks 5 on an annoyance scale of 1 to 10 and I can stand outdoors for hours on end with a hose and not be bothered, but I cannot, for example, go pick raspberries for breakfast without protective gear. Like this:
The quintessential summer day has us eating breakfast on the porch. That's a given.
It's a time (yet again) to take a look at the flowers. Assess the watering/weeding needs. A good summer day will have me out with a hose, but not too much on my hands and knees pulling out quack grass or creeping charlie. That's less fun. So, moments of admiration:
Walking down toward the sheep shed - more flowers. (Maybe I should work in a greenhouse: I really really love flowers.)
On this particular Sunday, Diane and I go to yoga class. The yoga room looks out on the prairie, my favorite teacher is there to guide us through the poses and to make it even better -- my yoga buddy from Madison is there as well. I have goodness on both sides and a view of a meadow. Bliss.
At the farmette, I take stock of our growing crop of foods. Now that we're pumping water again, I can finish watering the grape vines, the cukes, the tomatoes, the fruit trees. Our cucumber crop isn't exactly exploding (yet), but there are good signs that things are progressing.
And the tomatoes are multiplying as I speak.
(The corn is a tad on the short side still, but we planted late!)
Of course, I can just cast a look at the farmers to our north for a view of really productive vegetable farming.
But on a quintessential summer day, a truly mid-summer day, I have no complaints. The beetles haven't eaten the roses or the leaves off the cherry yet. The raspberries, buried that they are in who knows what weedy growth, still are throwing out bursts of fruit. And the flowers... I know, I know, I need to let go of this theme already. But the flowers! (My new desktop photo will have lavender in it. Here's today's favorite: )
It's hard to imagine a finer summer Sunday. Really. This is, I think, as beautiful as it gets.
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