Unlike winter’s long dreary hold, summer always seems to fly by. The end of the season no longer includes back-to-school energy with all the excitement and stress. In those days, summer break was always a mixed bag so I wasn’t always sad to see the end of it. When my daughter was young, it could be challenging to figure out affordable camps and care that covered life as a single working mom with a limited amount of time off from work.
Now I look back on the hot months of this year where nothing and nobody but me decided on my schedule and think: what did I do again? A question I often field from others now that I no longer work is: What do you do now? I should make notes because the days and weeks look blurry when I look back. I like to think that’s because I live in the present rather than fret about the past or the future. Thinking that makes me feel more evolved rather than doddery and old.
The season of summer seems to have changed a bit. Or maybe it’s me. But doesn’t the earth feel warmer and the blaze of the sun almost unbearable? I can’t imagine actually sunbathing. Or maybe it is another sign of my age that I shy away from being out in the scorching heat. Like a farmer, I wake early and step into the garden with my tea to assess the growth or, like the other day, the damage. The joy I felt in a recently planted redbud tree seedling was swallowed by the heartbreak of finding it almost snapped in half, its heart shaped leaves and tender branches eaten by rabbit or ground hog, I suspect. Ever-the-optimist I wrapped the damage with medical tape and placed netting around it to ward off any more critters. Time will tell but it may be too late. I’ll let you know.
In other garden news, I transplanted a fig tree I’ve had in a pot for years with nary a fig to show for it. I celebrated every leaf because new growth was so sparse. What was I doing wrong? Along with the never blossoming pomegranate tree and all the house plants, I always moved the fig inside with the frost. This summer, I liberated fig from its beautiful but now obviously too small pot and put it into the ground. It almost said ‘ah!’ in relief. Fig is now thriving. I can no longer count the leaves and new sprouts are appearing besides the lone stem I’d babied for years. It just wanted out, to literally spread its roots. No figs yet but it’s looking more hopeful. That’s all I need – a little hope.
The serviceberry tree freebie I received as part of a greening program in my city has grown a few feet since it was planted last summer. I miss the shade of the oak tree I had to take down last year. My handyman split and chopped it to perfect size and burning it kept me warm all last winter. I have a bit left and will once again thank each log before loading it into the stove.
While I miss the oak I welcome the serviceberry and the sunny space I now have for a perennial garden. Flowers never grew out front before but now there’s plenty of light. There was only a small patch of daylillies, iris and ivy growing around the bird bath and in winter, the bird feeder. This summer I marked out a larger space using oak branches, smothered the grass with newspaper, soil and wood chips and planted more flowering shrubs and plants. Like everything else I do, it’s a little slapdash and improvised as I tackle it in sections, but it’s looking good.
This is some of what I did this summer.
And I did my laundry and dried it on the clothesline. Washing in summer is one of my favorite things and again, like a farmer, I watch the weather to time it right. I haul the basket of wet clothes out of the basement to the porch from where I peg each sheet and shirt to swing in the breeze and sun. With these shorter days I must start earlier to capture the heat of the day. Yes, my electric bill is low.
The passing of all the seasons for me is now primarily aligned with nature so I follow the light, flowers, and plants of the season. I’m sad to see summer go but glad to reclaim the mid-day hours as it cools off again. And so the planet spins and time passes.