The full swing of summer is here. It pendulums back and forth between walls of heat, dragging its full belly over a waterlogged groundcover garden of purslane and clover, stopping occasionally to roll belly up in the sun or disappear into the shade for a long nap. The nights see us up late, most of the time, since it’s still light when we get home from work and we feel like we will live forever. But the mornings see us up early, too, since 7am is as bright as noon and the magpies scream urgently for us to bolt outside and breathe in the morning air, lest we miss another minute. So, we balance occasionally by going to bed early or sleeping in late, although there are days I’d be willing to stalk a full-grown, half-starved grizzly to steal their hibernation of winter.
The magpies screams are companionable by now. It’s silly, almost, how loud they can be, but if you’re listening closely they always have something to say. You’ll know the moment something shows up in your yard because the parliament addresses it so promptly.
We’ve been missing the bees; not many of them have made it to our garden this year and I can’t help but feel troubled. Even our deliciously bolted arugula this year seems to be visited by more wasps than their bee brethren, and it makes me miss the days of a fully swarming lilac or honeysuckle. (edited to add: later in this same day I drove past a huge lot full of mature lavender, positively swarming with bees. A reminder that perhaps the universe reads my blog, thinks I’m a touch over-dramatic, and wants me to know that it has a good sense of humor.)
Meanwhile, at 30 weeks pregnant I feel as swollen as summer herself and I too drag my belly over the ground cover and pull shade over myself to hide from the sun. There’s still plenty of road left to travel here but we’re climbing the last hill, and I keep having dreams of labor and meeting this baby boy. I keep my hands busy by developing new laser projects, designing files and painting small wooden pieces, gluing and photographing and puzzling things together. It’s incredibly satisfying and also cathartic to complete. (When they are a little more “put-together”, I shall post some pics.) I also have a few painting commissions to wrap up for the summer, and a number of other small projects to complete, then it’ll be fall and I’ll be itching to weave brooms and I’ll also have a little babe in my arms so I’ll have to figure out how to do it all one handed for a while. (I’m not going to lie; I’m so very excited for the fall. A cool breeze, a pumpkin cream cold brew, a nice scarf, the sound of leaves traveling like a flock of starlings across the sidewalk.. swoon!)
I’ll have to write another post about all the summer things I love so that I don’t sound too ungrateful. As humans, isn’t is always a strain to focus on the present instead of pining for the future? I struggle with this during the newborn stage, too; wanting so badly for my body to heal and change and strengthen more quickly and for their tiny little bodies to stay cuddly and small and sweet for longer. But they seem to grow so fast and I seem to change so slow and the only way to reconcile the two is simply to enjoy the particulars of each moment, instead of getting caught up in what comes next.
so. I’ll do that.
