The garden is all abuzz, with bees, and butterflies, lightning bugs and ladybugs.
All so very busy dutifully distributing the pollen amongst the flowers.
I thank them more than words can say.
Like trains of cars on tracks of plush
I hear the level bee:
A jar across the flowers goes,
Their velvet masonry
Withstands until the sweet assault
Their chivalry consumes,
While he, victorious, tilts away
To vanquish other blooms.
His feet are shod with gauze,
His helmet is of gold;
His breast, a single onyx
With chrysoprase, inlaid.
His labor is a chant,
His idleness a tune;
Oh, for a bee's experience
Of clovers and of noon!
Incredible blue skies and sunshine today. Lots of the stuff, it surely feels like we are in the midst of summer with this 90 degree heat.
True to form, my dearest decides to landscape, in this blazing sun, he tolerates the extreme Southern heat and humidity much more than I do.
Norseman's blood runs through my veins, after the temperature rises above 80 degrees I'm wilted like a head of week-old lettuce.
I do very well cleaning off the porches, with a little shade overhead, so with my trusty feline companions by my side, I'm scrubbing tables, and chairs, and being the cold water-runner, when I see the gardener flailing.
I had a garden, which I kept
With busy hands and tender care;
And once, while carelessly I slept,
Fanned softly by the drowsy air,
A wild rose to my garden crept,
And blossomed there.
O, sweet surprise. It seemed to me,
Some fair hand, my heart to bless,
Had brought it there, from wood or lee.
It came unsought 'twas loved no less;
I stooped and touched it tenderly,
With soft caress.
I grew to love it passing well;
While strange exotics, rich and rare,
With heart of gold and crimson bell,
Paid grudgingly for constant care,
My wild rose, as in a woodland dell,
Bloomed fresh and fair.
I watered not, I did not prune,
I tied it not with cord or thong;
Yet, morn by morn and noon by noon,
Through days of summer, hot and long,
And underneath the midnight moon,
From branches strong.
Hung clustered blossoms sweet and red;
And day by day and week by week,
I trod the path which toward it lead.
Whate'er my mood. I did not speak,
But close against bowed my head
And pressed my cheek.
I think of it with sudden thrill.
Now wide lands lie, deep water flows,
Smiles many a vale, looms many a hill
Between me and the garden-close;
Yet fondly I remember still
My sweet wild rose.
~ Ellen P. Allerton. Walls of Corn and Other Poems 1894
I can't believe that June is already upon us, where have the months gone.
One minute we were watching snowflakes fall, the next the landscape is green and full of new promise.
School children are out on Summer vacation, the sound of laughter returns.
Heat and humidity are now a daily occurrence, followed by cooling, nightly pop-up storms.
The season's first garden-grown tomatoes are ripe for the picking, and those coveted sweet Vidalia onions are back in the stores.
How time flies...….
"Mine is the Month of Roses; yes, and mine
The Month of Marriages! All pleasant sights
And scents, the fragrance of the blossoming vine,
The foliage of the valleys and the heights.
Mine are the longest days, the loveliest nights;
The mower's scythe makes music to my ear;
I am the mother of all dear delights;
I am the fairest daughter of the year."
We enjoyed sitting on the porch in the cool evening air last night, discussing our day, and savoring an ice-cream cone.
In the darkness of the woods I noticed a tiny twinkling light nestled in the tree line, and then another, and several more......
The Lightning Bugs have returned !
Most people know about Lightning Bugs, cute little flying beetles with bottoms that light up at dusk to facilitate one task all life forms are driven to accomplish – reproduction.
In Middle Tennessee, our Lightning Bugs come out once the sun is well below the horizon and produce a bright yellow green light that blinks on and off in the gathering night.
In the coming few weeks the darkness of the woods will be lit by the twinkling lights and mating rituals of the Lightning Bugs, or Fireflies as known to non-Southerners, meeting and creating beautiful luminescence together.
Close your eyes and think back to the long hot summers of childhood.
Playing outside until late in the evening, sitting on the front porch eating ice-cold watermelon slices, listening to the crickets chirp, and the tree frogs sing.
Remember catching Lightning Bugs and keeping them in a Mason jar ?
They glowed beside you all night long sitting on your night table....
Innocence and childhood going hand in hand.