The longest day of the year has come and gone, school has ended, summer is really here. While we've only had a few very hot days, they were enough to remind one why it is so nice to live by the sea. Seldom do we suffer the humid, heavy, smoggy days that bog down summers in the city too often. Notwithstanding, June 8th and 9th were tropically warm, muggy days, with the mercury hitting 30 Celsius, hot, hot, hot. I remember a college friend from Nigeria (many moons ago) telling me we in the West had to work with it, you can't fight the weather. "When it gets too hot, slow down,"he always said. Makes sense.
Most days now are pleasant, 20 to 23 Celsius. Some fog and rain but no more than average, and after a few days of sun the garden perks up with a good rain. My peas are growing fast, scarlet runners starting to twine around bamboo poles, have tansy and chives blossoming and lots of blossoms on tomato plants. Basil still not sure if life is worth living, looks pretty shabby. The thyme and summer savory are doing beautifully, with tiny pink thyme flowers a nice counterpoint to the antique shades pansies (soft pinks and golds). An African daisy was supposed to be bright cranberry and instead is peachy golden, but pretty anyway.
One moonlit night recently my son was away at a friend's house and it was very quiet. Suddenly the night erupted with howls, yiping, the quivering song of the coyotes. They were most likely down a woods road nearby, about half or three quarters of a mile away. We've had a small population on the island for several years and they seem to get along without much problem. There are a lot of woods and small wildlife enough to feed them it seems, though cats allowed to roam are at some risk. Our spoiled beast is a house cat only taken out once in a while on a lead, so he's safe enough. There is something wild and wonderful, and a bit scary perhaps, in the coyote's song. It's the second time we've heard them in the past few months. Earlier in the spring I was startled from bed hearing the playful yips and yaps made by a young coyote family passing close by, probably crossing the yard to the woods out back.
My yard is overdue for mowing, but the compensation is a riot of wildflowers, flame red and yellow devil's paintbrush, daisies, pink and white clover, feathery grasses, as well as the tiny purple plants that peek out from behind beds of bluets. Walking along the road, one sees masses of starry white bunchberry blossoms, and the roses are blooming now too. I pick a few not quite open buds, put them in a bowl of water by a window, and as they blossom out every little breeze carries a heavenly fragrance across the kitchen. I love classic old roses that haven't had the scent bred out of them by hybridizing.
On these summer mornings, I like to step outside with a cup of steaming coffee and listen to the birds waking up the world. I heard a biologist on CBC radio describe it as the "dawn chorus", a perfect name for the enthusiastic way they greet the new day. I've seen the merlin swooping down to catch an insect once or twice. Yesterday I watched through binoculars as a smaller bird (the merlin I think) dived and feinted at an osprey until it became riled and did a rollover in the air, facing talons up toward the smaller bird. She flew off then, thankfully, as it looked as though it might become a fatal encounter. I suppose the big raptor must have passed too close to a nesting site.
Just read last night that a favourite author and artist of mine has died, after a long and unique life. Tasha Tudor died at age 92 on the Vermont farm where she lived and worked. I have a delightful book, "Forever Christmas" with drawings and photos of the holiday as celebrated at the Tudors' country farm. There is a lovely documentary film about her life and work called "Take Joy" (a quote from Fra Giovanni that she admired). Interested readers can check out http://www.tashatudorandfamily.com/
"The gloom of the world is but a shadow behind it,
yet within our reach is joy. Take joy."
