What is one to say about June, the time of perfect young summer, the fulfillment of the promise of the earlier months, and with as yet no sign to remind one that its fresh young beauty will ever fade.
-Gertrude Jekyll
Summer afternoon, summer afternoon....
All you want to do is be outdoors, in the fresh air, under the huge blue sky. It's baking hot. We seek shade or shelter at noon. My arms are browned, my face is freckled, my stomach is full of watermelon. Kiki swims every day now, and chases butterflies and moths on the freshly-mown soccor field. Seed pods float like tiny whisps of cotton on the breeze. This morning, when I awoke, there was a shaft of sunlight warming my face, and the sound of construction workers coming through the open window. I liked that sound...that busy hot sound of summer. Throughout the day you can hear the voice of the lifeguard at the nearby community pool, booming through a loudspeaker. Engines, birds, hammers, lawn mowers, children playing, tractors. Yes...the busy hot sounds of summer.
And then the sun begins to set and everything is soaked in gold. The grass is as tall as me, nods and waves....I like swiping up the pods from the thin stalks and sprinkling them around like I did as a child. There is plenty of yarrow to harvest for tea now, and I've spotted the first few wild strawberries. Ate three. The wild flower meadow is a thick jungle, fit to be cut. Any day now.
xoxo country girl
