have a happy Fourth!

Without question, the Fourth of July is many things to many people. History, personal good or bad fortune, played out differently depending on where, when and to whom you were born. So you're bound to feel privileged or disadvantaged, included or pushed aside, depending on any number of things. And yet, all of us feel the significance of the Fourth. Few if any would want to turn our backs on the project of being American, even if some of us aren't so sure if we can celebrate how we got here, and a small fraction of us (not me!) would like to go back to the way things were in the past. 248 years to build this, on a foundation that most of us believe or at least hope is pretty solid. Two years short of a semiquincentennial. My, we are young! Young enough to be foolish I suppose. You know how teenagers are -- always taking that chance at something goofy and self-serving because they think they're invincible and deserving. Let's hope that we get some maturity and wisdom going as we elect our next batch of leaders this coming November.

Happy Fourth to you!

On a slightly lighter note (but be warned -- not in any way good!) -- the Fourth has always been momentous for me because by this date, you know if you're going to have an okay mosquito year or a bad one. And sure enough, this morning dispelled all hopes of a good one. All that rain, all that green jungle growth? Their heaven, and therefore our hell. Those nasty guys are out in armies posed to kill right now!

A few years ago, when things were even more dismal mosquito-wise (hard to imagine, but yes, it's been worse), we did spray. Every two weeks, for a couple of months. We hired someone to pump some frou-frou organic stuff, guaranteed to at least decrease their population significantly. There was all this promise of survivorship among the "good bugs" -- meaning everyone else except for mosquitoes -- but of course, that has to be hogwash because to my knowledge, there's nothing out there that kills off JUST mosquitoes. In any case, the stuff was good for about two or three days and then slowly they would come back. The yard smelled of garlic. I was happy, in the way that you are when your own personal interest has been served and you've managed to block out all the residual consequences your happiness may have had for others who inhabit the planet.

Today I suggested to Ed that we consider spraying this year again. Just to do away with the great bulk of the menace. Because they do multiply and so things tend to get worse, not better, as the season progresses. Sort of like old age.

July 4th, therefore, is a turning point for me. In some years it is the day I start to think  -- you know, winter isn't so bad after all. You may need a warm jacket and mitts and a cap, but at least you're not zapping away at swarms of blood sucking bugs. Yeah, winter's not so bad!

The cruelty of it all is that everything outside is so beautiful right now! The lilies are just now beginning to come into their own...

The air is warm, the fragrance is of the earth, of flowers.

And yet you can't fully revel in it, unless you spray yourself with some poison to ward off the aggressors. (Which is what Ed had to do as he went out to deal with our mounting compost pile.)

Still, I slap and smack and I clean the garden. It takes about 90 minutes to snip and pull some weeds while I'm in there being bitten alive. I'm hauling in about 300 spent lilies a day, which is on the low side, though I haven't bothered with the road-facing bed, so the count is really a bit more than that. Still, it's a sign of either the earliness of the season, or of the fact that we just haven't had that much sunshine. Lilies, like tomatoes, like sunshine.

 

Breakfast, on the porch.

With this guy.

Then we get a little lazy. Ed biked yesterday so he feels like he's paid his movement dues. Me -- no excuse. I got up too early! I deserve some couch time!

After snacking away at what I would affectionately call "lunch," Ed proposes we head out. Where? To a place we like to go to every couple of years -- the Stoughton Fair.

 

 

Stoughton is a small town to the south of us and it holds an annual fair which has the typical rides and stuff that goes from town to town in the summer, and then, more importantly, it has the farm animal show and competition. You will find a lot of beautiful cows, goats, sheep, chickens, pigs, turkeys, rabbits and ducks.  And I mean a lot. You'd never know we have so many young people taking care of farm animals in the vicinity. (It is mostly young people and they are all locals.)

We spend a good two hours walking the fairgrounds (just the animal part). Photos? Of course!

It is just awesome to see kids doing such good work with their animals. I mean, to bring a sheep to such excellence is work. Round the clock hard work. And I cant tell you how many beautiful lambs and sheep alone were paraded before judges. (A lot!)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Gorgeous animals, loved and well cared for. Though as Ed noted - probably slated to be eaten at some point. But then, Ed usually can be counted on to bring up the unfortunate side of these things.

I can't say that I moved with any vim and vigor today. And I noticed that although my cough was finally going away, I seem to be back to sneezing. Too many animals? Maybe, but I also traveled. For the first time, without masking. (No one masks in airports anymore. Maybe one traveler in several thousand.)

Could I have Covid? For the second time in my life? Nah... I feel fine. Waste of tests. But then again, there's Ed. There are the kids, soon to return to farmhouse schedules... I'm a compulsive tester. I'll test.

The rain came down hard as I sat there with my test kit and watched the line move right into positive.

Oh damn. Ed!

He moves out of the farmhouse. 

Our Fourth ends this way: I'm alone, he's alone, the mosquitoes are multiplying, it's raining like nuts.

I made a pot of chili so that I wouldn't have to cook for the next several days. Is there such a thing as a too quiet an evening? Ed and I are not fans of fireworks. We're on the side of all the birds and animals that hate all that noise. But this farmhouse emptiness is something else altogether.

Well, so it goes. I do hope you had a cheerful, thoughtful, reflective, beautiful and healthy Fourth!

with love...