It's that time of year. Peonies are blooming. Ants are invading our house. The garden is up, ready for hot sunny days for leaping into full fledged plants and crops. The grass is always in need of mowing. The patio is all set for sitting and we're too busy and so are the mosquitoes.
Same thing happens every summer. June comes along and sweeps us off our feet. We're in love. In love with mowed lawns and flower bouquets on the table and the perfect weather. And with the wild flowers in every ditch and meadow and the farmers alfalfa fields poised for first cutting... The first purple blooms are there. I waded in to look.
We can't get enough of it. Every daylight minute is savored, from pushing aside the curtains and blinds first thing in the morning to watching the golden hour change to sunset and dusk.
By July we'll have found our beat. We'll spray for the mosquitoes and settle down to suppers on the patio. If we're wise we'll mulch the garden deeply in old hay and sip iced tea in the shade instead of weeding and watering. It'll be high time to go fishing if we hope to do any of that this summer.
Our weekends keep filling up. Elv and I hope to go see Jenny and family in Nebraska this coming weekend. Next, the boys are planning to finish the reroofing here. Then it's back up to the cabin.
Can we just not be in a hurry while we do summer? Can we actually have suppers on the patio and go fishing for a few evenings?
The temptation to be living in Monday morning by Sunday evening robbed us last Sunday evening of sitting by Dru and Lisls campfire till the whippoorwills sang, so to speak. I'm not about to let that happen again. We came home to get to bed early so that we could get a good start on our week. What? Didn't get to bed that early anyway! Anyway, the whippoorwills don't sing till the sun is down, in case you're wondering.
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