High Summer arrives … gloriously, breaking the oppression of July. Days and nights are nearly perfect.
Annual week of sessions at New England Yearly Meeting.
Homegrown tomatoes. Who needs bacon? Good bread and mayonnaise set them off perfectly. I add a dash of Old Bay in memory of Baltimore.
Lobster prices come down.
Same-day corn on the cob. Boil it in the same water before or after the lobster. Eat both in the Smoking Garden, where a mess is quite easy to clean up.
Apples and peaches at Butternut Farm.
Body surfing at Long Sands.
Two weeks of swimming laps in the city’s 50-meter outdoor pool while the indoor pool undergoes annual maintenance. On my backstroke, especially, I watching for bald eagles in the distance or count the contrails of jetliners heading for Logan – one a minute.
Instead of a profusion of birdsong in the morning, it’s now crickets fiddling in the night, starting a crescendo that will end only with the first killing frost.
Well, I’ve been mentioning some of my favorite flowers in seasonal lists. My wife has really opened my eyes to the range before us. And that means we have enough others to generate a list of their own.
Flax or cornflower. The intense blue.
Tulips. Memories of Camden, Maine.
Tithonium. Its intense color is a magnet for pollen-seekers.
They won’t coexist. They strangle any competition. At heart they’re boa constrictors with stubborn roots. And if that won’t work, they’ll just suffocate it.
Yes, grass. When it gets in the garden beds, it pushes everything else out.
Ground ivy. We have two types all over the place.
Goutweed (St. Jerome wort?).
Stealth maples. Don’t laugh. Twice in two decades a pleasant little shade garden reverted to forest.
Dandelions, with their deep roots. Ditto for Queen Ann’s Lace.
Mint comes close. We have both spearmint, east of the house, and peppermint west of the Smoking Garden. But sometimes it comes in handy. Especially for folks who want contractors bags filled to brimming.