The sun hasn’t risen, but the birds are moving – singing. I hear an American Robin, a Cardinal. I turn toward the clock – not wanting to open my eyes, but unable to drift back into the bliss of sleep’s oblivion. Summer will be here – officially on Saturday. In someway, it has already left. The year now half over – we talk of winter holidays – here or Iowa or California . . . and dream of sunny beaches in December.
In spring planted gardens, the weeds grow with abandon. Peonies done, iris done, poppies done. What comes next? Daisies, Black-eyed Susans, lilies?
Onions and potatoes sprout and look for the hot days to warm their feet. Squash blossoms provide sustenance to the local rabbits.
Words written last week, but still they say something to me – a reminder of a late spring morning before the heart of the summer arrives. Enjoy!