May: Spring fades to Summer

Back in the days when I had a boat, this was one of three weekends I traditionally stayed off the water. The other two were July Fourth and Labor Day. The proportion of boaters who didn’t really know what they were doing was usually distressingly high these weekends. This year: Memorial Day weekend; first barbecue of the season; main ingredient: turkey legs! The cooking will occur between the morning’s showers; midday’s thunderstorm downpour and evening’s forecast storms. The humidity and bugs (mostly mosquitos) are being tempered by a breeze from the south.

tom turkey, mating display

Photo by J. Harrington

Two tom turkeys were each displaying in a field way behind the house. So, they’re convinced it’s still mating season. Meanwhile, we’re noticing that we’ve seen no turtles crossing the local roads this year, and only one snake so far, apparently run over while sunning on the roadway. The unusual weather patterns this year may have something to do with our lack of sightings, plus, we’ve not been traveling every day the way we once did.

After the storms tonight and tomorrow, we may slide into a typical early June weather pattern. Then again, we may not. The phrase that keeps coming to mind is we’ll have to “play it by ear.” Unfortunately, musicianship is not one of our stronger talents. Next week we’ll start tidying our No Mow May grasses. The first steps will be to pick up the dead branches fallen from our oaks so they don’t mess up the mower blades. We’ll then mow fairly high and more frequently than later in the season, since the mulching mower will still be leaving grass clippings longer than ideal. If I approach these chores as a learning experience instead of a job to get done well and quickly, I may even begin to enjoy the experience and actually learn something.

Travelling Storm

Mark Van Doren - 1894-1972

The sky, above us here, is open again. 
The sun comes hotter, and the shingles steam. 
The trees are done with dripping, and the hens
Bustle among bright pools to pick and drink. . . . 
But east and south are black with speeding storm. 
That thunder, low and far, remembering nothing,
Gathers a new world under it and growls, 
Worries, strikes, and is gone.  Children at windows 
Cry at the rain, it pours so heavily down,
Drifting across the yard till the sheds are grey. . . . 
A county father on, the wind is all—
A swift dark wind that turns the maples pale, 
Ruffles the hay, and spreads the swallows’ wings. 
Horses, suddenly restless, are unhitched,
And men, with glances upward, hurry in; 
Their overalls blow full and cool; they shout;
Soon they will lie in barns and laugh at the lightning. . . . 
Another county yet, and the sky is still; 
The air is fainting; women sit with fans
And wonder when a rain will come that way. 

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