Posts Tagged ‘summer’
Lily Show
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We are enjoying a period of wonderfully comfortable summer weather. Our variety of Asian lillies are popping open like a July Independence Day fireworks show.
The dew point temperature is in the refreshing 50s (F) and we are well-between rainfall events. The sunlight still lasts summer-long, but the grass has finally slowed to a reasonable rate of new growth. I hesitate to mention that I have spotted some leaves on the ground under one particular tree that has already decided to start the change process from green leaves to yellow.
It is the pause of breath before the big exhale toward fall. The raspberries have yielded a bumper crop this year, but the bushes now look like we’re arriving at the end of berry season. In contrast, the plum trees are just starting to reveal their fruit, cherry-sized green orbs becoming apparent.
Down the path a ways, one of our volunteer apple trees in the woods has decided to drop its fruit a little early this year, providing a trigger for another passing thought about the relative shortness of our growing season.
This time of year I find myself mystified by the incredibly extreme amount of change that happens across the span of seasons where we live. The number of what seem like endless winter days trekking along the frozen trail that Delilah and I stomp into the snow around the perimeter of our property becomes a surreal memory in relation to the lush green landscape and warm breezes we are treated to in July.
The colorful explosions of flowers like our lillies become an icing on the cake that is summertime.
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Thrilling News
We are giddy with anticipation over our good fortune to have our friends, the Morales family, returning to visit us again in a few weeks. Since we have adopted each other as family, it is like a reunion of precious relations. Cyndie has unleashed her irrepressible inspirations and fearless energies toward making plans and preparations that have me questioning how she intends to bend time and space in her physics-defying scenarios of everything she wants to happen while they are here.
If you are one of the crew of local followers of “Relative Something,” this is your chance to get in on the action! For those of you who won’t be able to join us, you can trust that my stories and images describing the summer spectacle will be the subject of posts in the days that follow…
.We feel incredibly blessed to live in this wonderful place with our special animals, and it brings us immeasurable joy when others are able to be here to share in the experience along with us.
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Baling Hay
It was an epic day focused on hay yesterday, and the weather was ideal. We probably could have cut one day out of the process, but some of the bales might have bordered on still having too much moisture in them, so waiting allowed me to work the day-job on Thursday and then pack the bulk of the work of baling in about 12-hours of effort yesterday.
I started the work in the morning using George’s rake behind our tractor to create the windrows. My skills, and thus, confidence, were much higher than last year, but I still haven’t figured out the ideal pattern for our irregularly shaped field. 
It took me until half way through the job to discover I was making it harder on myself by dragging the rake along the previous windrow. If my steering is off the tiniest bit, the rake will catch the row I just created and mess it up.
If I simply rake from the other direction, I am raking the untouched grass with a clean space between me and the previous row. That provides much more room for normal variations. Duh!
While waiting for George to arrive with the baler, I hustled to move the remaining bales from last year that were stored on the right side of the hay shed, in order to make room for the new bales we were about to create. Hustling to exert yourself is not really well-advised when you have a long day of effort ahead on a hot summer day. I think I threw myself out of balance, probably getting too hot while also still trying to figure out a reduced-sugar diet. Getting the right sugar balance is proving to be a challenge for me.
When George arrived, he mentioned that he had forgotten to grease the baler, so I volunteered to hoof it back to my garage to get my grease gun. After that long, hurried walk, while chatting and watching him hit the multitude of grease fittings, I felt myself growing sicker and sicker. 
I got light-headed and nauseous. It took almost too much effort to walk all the way back to the house after he started baling, where I could cool off and taking in some sugar and fluids —which was a challenge since I was also fending off the nausea.
I never really felt fully back on top of my game, but recovered enough to function and returned to help with the hardest part of all: tossing bales. Cyndie stepped up heroically and moved more heavy bales than I could believe, heaving them around to unload the wagon while I stacked them in the shed.
We weren’t able to unload fast enough to get the wagon back out to George by the time he could have used it, so he just let the last bunch of bales lay on the ground and we drove out to pick them up at the end. I haven’t counted yet, as we finished after dark last night, but I think we got another high yield off our little plot.
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George graciously returned after needing to rush home to feed his animals, and helped us stack bales in our shed to get them off the wagons. Cyndie served up dinner for us all around 10:00 p.m. and we got a chance to celebrate the huge effort of summer: putting up hay that will feed our horses all winter.
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Stuck
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late at night
past the flickering city lights
the warmth of summer at the solstice
mixes gently
with the chill
that settles in the low spots
where crickets keep their beat
a time signature set by heat
or possibly the lack thereof
sleep swoops in slyly
crescent moon
hangs there dryly
where nothing ever happens
life is stuck in possibility
awaiting aimlessly
for the next wave coming
just in case
it eventually does
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Summer
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summer nights
of comfortable warmth
thick with adventure
an irresistible force
carnival rides down at the fair
where 4H kids primp prized livestock
race cars blaze around a track
pounding a thunderous powerful roar
deep-frying grease
mixing the smells
beckoning foods festivals sell
driving home
all the windows down
familiar tunes blaring
through half a dozen towns
to bonfire smoke
wafting toward the moon
full as it is
on its perigee
amid voices recalling
fond memories past
fireflies flash
summer’s breeze blows
moments in time
now mentally froze
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Relative Something 