2010-The summer solstice marks the widest path of the sun’s travels, rising north of east and setting right into High Point Mountain, seeming just short of ninety degrees north of its winter afternoon couch. I follow the sunrise and sunset announcements on the radio just as avidly as I do the weather reports; I became confused when on June 18th the weatherman announced that the sun had set one minute earlier than the day before. Before the solstice?! But I made sense of it when I remembered reading that the ancient calendar no longer coincided exactly with the movements of the heavens as observed by the ancients. Embarrassing myself by sharing this news with everyone, it became apparent that he (and I) had made a mistake when the next day, and the next and next, the sun ‘again’ set at its fifteen hours and twenty minutes maximum. What I was recalling actually referred to the zodiac. The solstice is an actual event, a measurement of the sun’s position in regard to the earth on its axis. However, at the core of my falling for his mistake was the knowledge that hidden in the very moment of summers achievement is the seed of its demise. Starting today/tomorrow, the days begin to shorten. I actually feel a frisson of dread at the realization, intuitively sensing what Dalby affirms; that “The shortest night of the year was magical but not necessarily benign. Bonfires were lit in celebration of summer bounty, but also to keep the fairies and sprites of mid-summer night’s eve at bay.”
The blueberries are ripening, starting with the bush at the southern end that gets the most sun. My effort to get rid of the shading ash by girdling it will apparently take more than one season to succeed. In fact it is branching out even more energetically under the cut. At least I have blueberries, having achieved some expertise at netting them off from marauding birds. I still need to work at improving the arrangement because, at this point, the netting is so snug and well fastened, I have trouble getting in myself.
2011- Somehow I neglected to repair the netting situation in time and now that the berries are starting (just a day after the strawberries finished), the branches and fruit are all entangled with the netting and the tops of the enclosures I made are open to the sky and the happy birds. When the rain stops I will try to fix it up, but it is probably too late to do much about it without pulling off clumps of berries and the harvest doesn’t seem that good this year anyway. Girdling the ash does not seem to have restrained its overshadowing growth at all and I feel like an attempted tree murderer to no purpose.
The ticks seem to have abated somewhat but I had already decided not to kill anymore but just return them to the bushes with their friends. I felt my karma was suffering.
And speaking of happy birds, I passed two ducks along the road in the rain yesterday that I swear were smiling as they splashed along.
After reading a book about medicine plants I am attempting to contact a fern outside the back door. I felt it reach out to me during yoga the other morning and I took notice of it. I made some photos and have just generally been appreciating it. When the rain stops I will try a meditation next to it.
2012-I was sitting in a chair on the deck next to the ferns when I felt it come into my consciousness. It was like it was saying ‘hello, remember me? ‘There is something so gentle and positive about how it feels- like it means me well.
On the murder front, I’ve continued to set the small live trap though I gave up on the kill trap after it was set off with nothing in it. Too many grisly possibilities. But then I found a small mockingbird dead in the so-called live trap and I can’t set it anymore. I found holes near the fence where something relatively small is tunneling in so I stuffed the holes full of compost bones. Maybe voodoo will work.
Though the long spell of cold wet weather was the worst thing for eggplants, they seem to be recovering and beginning to grow. They have few flea beetles which is astonishing to me given the problem they have been in the past.
2013-A spell of hot humid weather and vegetables that were just hanging out in the cool spring are growing riotously. The kittens made a jailbreak out of the back room, right through the improvised gate. They are racing up and down the hallway riotously. Is the desire for freedom innate in every thing living?
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