Asides

Summer                                 Hiroshima Moon

 

A little bleery eyed this a.m.  Don’t know how frequent business travelers do it.  Strange beds, overly large portions.  Not very romantic.

Sometime after noon Jon, Ruth and I plan a trip to the Colorado History Museum.  It’s one of my favorite places here in Denver, a museum rich in geologic, demographic and historical information about this square state.  There’s also a lot of material culture from native people to mining, frontier and contemporary culture.

I’m a sucker for museums anyhow, and this is a good one.

 

Summer                                                  Under the Lily Moon

I know.  But I just can’t help it.  It’s what’s on my mind and skin right now.

Day 6.  Behavior changing, shifting more and more towards morning.  Little cooking.  Eat out or deli.  Malaise.  Late afternoons, early evening.  Sluggish.

Sister comes tonight.  She said she could handle the heat.  Singapore is tropical; so are we this July.  Brother comes in August.  He’ll move to Riyadh when he goes back; they were in the 110’s.  So, we’ll get no sympathy from my family.  I did like Paul Douglas’ line about dry heat:  “My oven is dry heat but I wouldn’t stick my head in there.”

 

Summer                                                       Under the Lily Moon

Out to plant more collard greens, beets, chard.  In the bed Kate cleared yesterday.  Gradually getting the second phase of planting done.  After this, I need to move onto clearing weeds from the firepit area, perhaps doing some planting.  We also need rock for it.

Inside today.  Rembrandt tour.  Object selection.  Settling on themes.  Information.  Path.

Summer                                                  Under the Lily Moon

Harvested more chard and beets.  Kate plucked some onions out of a larger bed she weeded this morning.  Replanted beets and chard.  About an hour, an hour and a half is enough for me.  Collard greens tomorrow plus carrots and perhaps some more beets.

Summer                                          Under the Lily Moon

Succession planting this am.  Blessed cooler weather.  Who’d thought 85 would be cooler?

More Rembrandt today, hopefully some Ovid.

Summer                                               Under the Lily Moon

Sat out back on the deck after supper tonight.  Vines, trees, vegetables, grass, flowers all bursting with greens showcasing their vitality.  It looks like we have a homestead in the Smoky Mountains.

The dogs came and went, nuzzling then exploring.  Rigel ejected herself from the deck when a noisy engine neared our truck gate.  She barked.  Vega didn’t appear at all, deep in the woods on some mission of her own.  Gertie, still recovering from her wounds, stayed around and Kona, the spry old dog, sniffed, wandered.

I want to be like Kona when I’m old.  Fit, curious, and able to sleep with the door off my crate.  She’s my role model.

Kate made another delicious and nutritious meal.  July.  Be glad, the days are getting shorter.  The sun cannot rake us like this forever.

Summer             Under the Lily Moon

Harvested chard, Fordhook Giant, dark green leaves and pale white stems.  Two armfuls.  Beets, too.  Burpee’s Golden, Bull’s Blood and Detroit Dark Red.  This is the third or fourth bunch of beets and this was the largest harvest so far.

The temperature not too bad, aided by cooling breezes.

“To laugh often and much; to win the respect of intelligent people and the affection of children; to earn the appreciation of honest critics and to endure the betrayal of false friends. To appreciate beauty; to find the best in others; to leave the world a bit better whether by a healthy child, a garden patch, or a redeemed social condition; to know that even one life has breathed easier because you have lived. This is to have succeeded.”

Ralph Waldo Emerson

Summer                                                   Under the Lily Moon

Latvia’s most important national holiday is arguably not Christmas but the summer solstice celebrations of Ligo (pronounced “leegwa”) – a pagan tradition when Latvians celebrate the shortest night by staying up to greet the rising sun.

Wanted to add a note from a Latvian which puts an interesting twist on this:

“Just sent you a couple of notes on your wonderful blog. Interesting you would call Summer Solstice the shortest night, when I was gorwing up, all the Latvians refered it to the longest night – meaning, they were up all night because it never got dark, as opposed to winter solstice, which technically is the longest night – then,they would  light  a lot of candles. So much for pagan traditions.

Oh, the reason the guy is wearing an oak wreath on his head is to celebrate St. John, whose favavorite tree was the sacred oak. The women only wore reaths made of wild flowers. Go figure.”

BTW:  St. John’s Night is the night before St. John’s, the saint’s day for John the Baptist.  It’s celebrated on June 24th.  Before easy calculation of the exact day of the four solar holidays, a fixed date near the usual time was chosen and used as the celebration.

 

Summer                                                 Under the Lily Moon

Gonna be hot.  And it’s not a dry hot here in the Northstar state.  97 – 100 with a dewpoint of 75.  Yeeeikes.  I know, we’re such heat weenies, but I want to stay that way.