This is it. The longest day of the year. It was hit and miss for sunshine here but I managed a few candid shots…
It might not be our usual decadent summer this year, but it was another day above the dirt for me, as the saying goes, and that’s good whatever the weather.
My last post was about the simple joy of the flowers in the garden, and when I stop to smell the flowers, as my mom always encourages, it makes me think of my favourite verse in a poem I studied in high school, “Ode. Imitations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood”.
Then sing, ye birds, sing, sing a joyous song!
And let the young lambs bound
As to the tabor’s sound!
We in thought will join your throng,
Ye that pipe and ye that play,
Ye that through your hearts to-day
Feel the gladness of the May!
What though the radiance which was once so bright
Be now for ever taken from my sight,
Though nothing can bring back the hour
Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower;
We will grieve not, rather find
Strength in what remains behind;
In the primal sympathy
Which having been must ever be;
In the soothing thoughts that spring
Out of human suffering;
In the faith that looks through death,
In years that bring the philosophic mind.
-William Wordsworth (1770-1850)
As a teenager, I loved the rhyme but the meaning of the words didn’t really sink in. For some reason though, it stuck in my head, and as I get older it becomes increasingly poignant.
Perhaps my romantic nature is part of why I became a foodie. The nature of a meal is ephemeral at best, lasting only as long as food is on the table. Capturing the magic of shared company and tastes (in the food and the people) has created the fabric of so many memories for me. That fabric has become the tapestry of my life.
The garden has the same quality, always changing and following the circle of life. It has been a great lesson for me to learn that the faster I cut away the old blooms, the sooner the plants will offer up more in return. (Turning a blind eye only prolongs the sorrow, with dead stalks waving in the wind instead of the vibrant colour of new life.)
Another of my favourite writers is Tom Robbins, a more modern fellow than Mr. Wordsworth, but with the same romantic tendencies. He spoke of childhood too, and how as adults many of us search to maintain that sense of wonder kids know innately.
I’ll close off with a quote from “Still Life with Woodpecker”, one of my most cherished reads of all time.
The romance of new love, the romance of solitude, the romance of objecthood, the romance of ancient pyramids and distant stars are means of making contact with the mystery. When it comes to perpetuating it, however, I got no advice. But I can and will remind you of two of the most important facts I know:
1. Everything is part of it.
2. It’s never too late to have a happy childhood.
― Tom Robbins, Still Life with Woodpecker
If it seems a bit obtuse, I can only recommend you read the book. If it makes sense, well then I hope we come into contact some time so we can share in the magic.
Despite the heat we’ve had that melts butter on the counter, and the flooding that has streams and lakes rising past record levels, there is simple beauty around.
We have sardonically joked that it’s a good year to be poor enough to not afford lakefront property. My garden is well above water. We lost a few big branches from one of our lilac trees last night but that’s all. (They were waterlogged and beaten down by previous hits from ambitious woodpeckers. )
If you’ll pardon the expression, I thought I’d show the cup half full in what for many is a time of tense anticipation or even tragedy.
I hope you can smile at these the way I do. As my mom always says, “it’s important to stop and smell the flowers.” Breathe deep.
I haven’t been able to do as much in my garden as I would like this spring. It’s too cold and wet. The ground is cold for the plants and the wind is cold for me. So, to cheer myself up I went to the nursery.
This might sound like backwards behaviour but I felt better as soon as I got there. I could smell the fresh cut flowers. I chuckled at the whimsical garden statues (who wouldn’t love to have a smirking dragon lying in their grass?). It was drizzling as I headed to the tables of plants under tarps; not many souls except me and a few foul weather friends.
In the end I splurged on a few plants I needed to replace – lemon verbena, globe basil and an heirloom beefsteak tomato. They were ones that are hard to find and they should be happy in my greenhouse for the next week or so. Just for fun I decided to include a few geraniums that will be my salute to Canada’s sesquicentennial.
TGIF. It’s a full moon tonight and the Farmers Almanac says June is all about roses and strawberries so that’s what it’s called. I like the idea of a moon with a pink tint. Is that like seeing the world through rose coloured glasses, I wonder?
This is also the last weekend I have to sit back and soak in all this beauty and wonder. So, I intend to do just that. I wish you a wonderful weekend, with good food, wine and company. Cheers!