Last weekend, I left for a business trip to California. In only four days time, it feels like the whole atmosphere around here has changed, and not just because our Hemisphere’s Summer Solstice happened in the interim.
Could be because the school year, for all intents and purposes, is over: parents were told to notify the school if their kids were not going to be there next Monday, the “official” end, so they could get their report cards today.
Could be because today, the local paper published a schedule of Fourth of July fireworks displays.
I suspect, though, it has more to do with the going by of the Spring flowers and the explosion of the Summer blooms like Pinks and Foxglove over the last week.
Now, it’s starting to feel like the growing season is moving at a much faster pace.
In March and April, everything seems to be at a crawl, at least aboveground, except for the tulips, crocus and other early Spring plants. June really is the gardener’s reward for patience and preparation, but it’s also the start of dry weather, which is a test of persistence.
My good neighbor The Other Gardener faithfully watered the flower boxes this past week, so everything was still healthy when I returned, but still, I was out of step with things like weeding, pruning and deadheading, some of which got done today.
There’s a rhythm to gardening, similar to what people who live near the beach notice with the changes in vegetation and animal life throughout the warmer months.
Right now, there’s a sweet evening breeze, and earlier today, a large butterfly grazed on some of the abundant blooms in the flower boxes; the pictures are at http://www.flickr.com/photos/50283295@N00/sets/496552/
Tomorrow, the grandkids are performing in one of the first summer arts festivals of the year. Come July, the Monday night beach concerts will be starting at Nauset.
Sadly, some traditions won’t be around this year, like the Hyannis street fair. Instead of the weekly live music concerts we’ve enjoyed in the past, Mashpee Commons has opted instead for outdoor film screenings.
Still, there will be plenty of summer to occupy young boys and girls, and their folks, and their grandparents. For many Cape Codders, it’s the “make or break” time for the year, with long days and the frustration of dealing with traffic and out-of-towners. For others of us, though, Emerson’s words to Harvard Divinity School’s class of 1838 still ring true:
In this refulgent summer, it has been a luxury to draw the breath of life. The grass grows, the buds burst, the meadow is spotted with fire and gold in the tint of flowers. The air is full of birds, and sweet with the breath of the pine, the balm-of-Gilead, and the new hay. Night brings no gloom to the heart with its welcome shade. Through the transparent darkness the stars pour their almost spiritual rays. Under them we seem young children, and our huge globe a toy. The cool night bathes the world as with a river, and prepares our eyes again for the crimson dawn. The mystery of nature was never displayed more happily.