Summer entered the Pacific Northwest yesterday, specifically the Portland, OR area, ablaze in sunlight and blue sky. Of course, lest we’d forget our geographic location, the occasional cloud covered the sun. Yet, that did nothing to deter the soul from dancing.
In reading yesterday, I came across a poem by William Wordsworth that spoke to how I felt with summer outside my doorway and what memories of its gala arrival would mean for me months down the road. Continue reading
As I look out my windows, I see the fading colors in our garden spots.
I’m not ready. You read that right—I’m not ready.
The spring and summer blooms have kept my spirits high as I glanced from a window or stepped to our back deck. And on those days we’ve headed out in the car to whatever appointment I had, there was the front garden by our drive. Bright coneflowers, cosmos, and marigolds, and early on the blossoms of strawberries.
But it is only proper that with the season winding down and shadows growing longer, autumn is nearby. There are other colors waiting to take center stage. And with these changes come the fading of summer colors.
As Thoreau so wisely says, we must accept the changes and resign ourselves to what each change brings.
Live each season as it passes; breathe the air, drink the drink,
taste the fruit, and resign yourself to the influences of each.
— Henry David Thoreau
In early June, I shared a post with you about a surprise in our garden area. The cosmos plants have grown quite a bit but show no signs of blooming, yet.
Not long after the cosmos started growing, a few other plants with a somewhat different leaf showed up. I mentioned to Bob they looked like marigolds. He responded that the seed packet he picked up said cosmos. If we had marigolds growing, it meant someone made a mistake at the factory.
It appears someone made a mistake. We have our first marigold blossom plus quite a few buds just waiting to unfurl their petals.
At least life hasn’t offered us any bigger surprises than these.
As I sit here in my hoodie and long pants, the question on this first day of summer remains, “Summer begins?” For days, we’ve been in a weather cycle of cool temps, scattered drizzles, and no sun until mid-afternoon. Does that sound like summer?
Granted our daisies are blooming. Today Bob found buds on some of our hostas. The geraniums are loaded with blossoms. And believe it or not, our Christmas cactus now residing on our back deck is setting buds. The plants obviously believe summer is here.
I’m sorry, but it doesn’t feel like summer yet. Not long ago we had temps in the upper 90s. We turned our furnace off. The mornings have been crisp and cool, so I’ve kickstarted the furnace to take the edge off.
Summer comes every year. I know that in my mind and heart, but I want to see it, feel it, be outside in it. And in August or September, I’ll likely be begging for a cool down.
You can’t please some folks, can you?