Lazy, hazy, sleepy, days of summer are here. If anyone stumbles over my ambition, please feed and water it until cooler temps arrive. Then leave a comment here and I’ll come and pick it up. It’s time to return to reading The Subtle Art of Not Giving a #@%! Journal, and to add watermelon to the shopping list.
The bright blue bug ball (for trapping horsedeerflies) is again functional, thanks to the Better Half’s completion of the tedious but essential task of painting sticky goop on the entire surface of the beach ball-size thing. I did the relatively mundane task of stringing and hanging the painted ball. Years of fishing and boating qualify me for spinning yarns, getting strung up, and getting tied up in knots.
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| crown vetch in bloom
Photo by J. Harrington
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Most of the local row crops, corn and soy beans, are looking decent, except for the field areas under water. Isolated and/or scattered thunderstorms
One other long deferred chore got completed this morning. The live trap set for the chipmunk living in tunnels under the front stoop was cleaned, freshened and placed in what we hope will be a more tempting location. If not translocated, the little critter is liable to put a tunnel near the garage entrance and create minor havoc as the Better Half comes or goes. Until tomorrow about this time .....
Travelling Storm
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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Thanks for visiting. Come again when you can.
Please be kind to each other while you can.
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