After having grandchildren and nieces and nephews here for a week, last week was very quiet. All the energy and noise and activity faded away and we returned to the staid routines of a house full of adults. It will only be this way for a short time as a new wave of family arrives this week and the next and the energy level will ramp up again.
Before the Thayns left for home last Sunday afternoon, we celebrated Miriam’s birthday. She made delicious treats for us. She is a talented chef and we appreciate her skills. After the celebration, we retired to the front lawn for the first game of croquet of the year. I hope there will be many more.
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| Celebrating Miriam's birthday last Sunday. |
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| Our first croquet game of 2021. |
We had some good, drenching rain last week. Sunday evening we had a thunder storm that went on for hours and dropped two inches of rain on us. It rained again on Monday afternoon. It poured again on Saturday afternoon. I appreciate the rain. It makes life easier for me as I don’t have to water by hand. There is just one outdoor spigot on our house at the back by the cellar door. I have a very long hose, but it doesn’t reach the far parts of my garden. When we don’t get enough rain, and I have to water by hand, I have to carry buckets of water and a watering can to the distant corners of the garden. It’s good exercise that I’d rather not do. And I’m especially grateful when the rain barrel down at the barn is full and I don’t have to carry water to the chickens. The rain is a great blessing.
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| One of my new irises. |
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| Lupins, foxgloves, and poppies. |
Midweek, while the western states baked in the triple digits, our weather turned cooler – cold, actually. Wednesday morning as I set out for my walk, I grumbled as I donned my fleece lined jacket. The thermometer read 37°. I was relieved that it had stopped there. If it had dropped another five degrees we would have had a another disastrous freeze like last June. But later that day, I saw the forecast for even colder temperatures that night and Thursday morning. I spent the day doing all I could to protect the garden from freezing. I soaked everything. Wet ground holds heat better than dry ground and fully hydrated plants are more resistant to frost. I went out again at 9:30 p.m. and watered everything again in the last of the twilight. That night was a strange and almost nightmarish night. I woke up at midnight and checked the thermometer. It was 37°, still above freezing. I felt a little relieved and went back to bed. I woke again at 4:00. The thermometer said 34°. Now I was really worried. I walked through the house and turned on the outside floodlights and looked out the windows to see if there was any sign of frost. The lawn was silvery, but it looked like dew, not frost. As I went back to bed, I turned to look behind me and saw that there was a trail of small glowing spots where I had walked across the floor. I was puzzled. Was it moon light? No, the moon had already set. I got down on my hands and knees to look closer. They were just tiny glowing spots. I was too tried, and it was too dark to pursue any further investigation, so I gave up wondering and went back to bed. Thinking on it later when I was fully awake, the only thing I could think of was that there must have been a firefly in the house, which sometimes happens, and I stepped on it and left a trail of its glowing guts across the floor. A strange night. I went out before dawn on Thursday to survey the gardens for any damage. The long border and my vegetable beds looked good. Everything was wet, but there was no frost or ice. I walked out to the big garden. Kurt had watered everything late in the evening and the tomatoes, peppers, and beans looked okay. I saw a few patches of frost across the lower lawn, so I know that, at least in some spots, the temperature must have dropped to freezing, but everything in the garden looked good. I breathed a sigh of relief and uttered a prayer of thanks. I went out later in the morning after the sun had risen and the day had warmed. Everything survived and, pending yet another Arctic attack, it looks like we don’t have to worry about freezing for a few months. And to think, a week ago we were baking at almost 90°.
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| Out in the big garden on a 34 degree morning. |
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| There are patches of frost on the grass. |
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| Mist over the beaver pond at dawn. |
I know it’s useless to obsess and complain about the weather. There is nothing I can do if Nature decides to freeze us in June. I know that Nature, although I personify her (she is female in my mind, probably influenced by ancient mythologies and those Chiffon margarine commercials in the 70's), is a force and impersonal, but I scold and complain at her nonetheless when she sends us terrible weather. But even more than complain about the weather, I pray. I pray over my gardens and orchard every day. I follow the admonition of the prophet Zenos as quoted by Alma – “Cry unto him [God] over the crops of your fields, that ye may prosper in them. Cry over the flocks of your fields, that they may increase.” (Alma 34:24-25) But, when I see freezing temperatures forecast for the middle of June, my prayers become more frequent and sincere. If we don’t freeze, I thank God. And if the frost comes anyway and I lose my crops or my flowers or my fruit, I have to believe that it was meant to be and this is another trial meant to test me, to humble me, and see if I will still trust in God and endure. There is always next year and another chance to try again.
We had some unwanted excitement on Friday afternoon. It was windy that day and the gusts blew the door open on the peacock pen. We looked out the window and there was Posey, strolling through the orchard. Petunia, the hen, is on a nest and not tempted to wander, but Posey was. We all went out to try and get him back in his pen, but he did not cooperate. Instead he ran across the road into the jungle of tall weeds and thorn trees – right where the fox has its den. We spent the next twenty minutes chasing him, crashing through the weeds and trees. Finally we got him back across the road, but then he went in the opposite direction, across the gardens and the Blake land. Now Kurt joined us on his little electric motorbike. With us running and Kurt riding, we managed to get him back across the yards. He flew into the chicken yard, his old familiar home, and then went into the chicken coop where I cornered him, grabbed him, and returned him to his proper pen. We put a cinder block against the door to prevent any future escapes. We were all pretty tired out from all the running. That’s the most running I’ve done in a long time. I need to exercise more.
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| The recaptured peacock headed back to his pen. |
After Thursday’s cold, the weather warmed again. The final days of spring were lovely. Saturday, the last day of spring, was especially nice. The morning was very still and overcast. The air was warm and heavy. I knew rain was coming, so I went out as soon as the dew dried and mowed the lawn. As the morning passed, and I worked in the garden, the smell of the cut grass, the fragrance of the mock orange and wild roses hanging in the still air was wonderful. Just as I finished my garden work and was getting ready to head down to the barn to do the chores, the sky opened up and it poured rain. I retreated to the front porch and sat and listened to the rain drumming on the metal roof. Later the rain turned into a thunderstorm – the perfect finale for spring and overture to summer.
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| My old rose at its peak. |
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| Up with the chickens on a late June morning. |
Today is the summer solstice. At 11:32 tonight, the earth will arrive at the point in its orbit where the North Pole is at its maximum tilt, about 23.5 degrees, toward the Sun, resulting in the longest day and shortest night of the year. This morning, the sun rose at 5:36 a.m. and will set at 8:50 p.m., giving us 15 hours and 14 minutes of direct sunlight. When you add in the twilight times, which started at 5:02 a.m. and will end at 9:24 p.m., that’s 16 hours and 26 minutes of light. The summer solstice is an event I both revel in and mourn. I love the light and warmth and life that it brings. But I also mourn because passing the solstice means that tomorrow the days will start to grow shorter again – about one minute every three days – as we move toward that other solstice six months from now when we will shiver in darkness.
The earth celebrates the warmth and light of summer by decking herself in flowers – zinnias, marigolds, lilies, phlox, daisies, and so many others. We celebrated with strawberries and lettuce picked fresh from the garden and a bouquet of peonies to brighten the table. Soon summer will bring us peas and green beans, broccoli and cauliflower, zucchini, peppers, garlic, and tomatoes. It is a season for feasting on fresh things.
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| Fresh picked strawberries. |
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| Peonies. |
This morning was another very still, warm and humid morning. When I went out for my walk, everything was so quiet, perfect for a Sabbath morning. There was a bit of fog. I followed my usual paths across the lawn, through the meadow, down to the beaver pond, back past the barn, and through the gardens. The air was so fragrant and soft, I came back indoors to get ready for church reluctantly.
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| The first day of summer - my Sabbath morning walk. |
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| The first day of summer - my Sabbath morning walk. |
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| The first day of summer - my Sabbath morning walk. |
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| The first day of summer - my Sabbath morning walk. |
Today is Father's Day. Stacey and I were asked to speak at church today. After so many years of teaching Sunday School, you’d think I wouldn’t mind giving a talk, but I do. Somehow speaking from the pulpit is different from teaching and it caused me some stress as I prepared my remarks. Maybe that accounts for the dream I had on Friday night. It was really a nightmare. I dreamed that I woke up and found that I’d been unconscious for the last 40 years, twice as long as Rip Van Winkle. I awoke in a strange room with walls covered with photographs of events I did not recognize that showed my parents and my siblings growing up and old. There were photographs of me, but every one of them showed people gathered around the bed where I lay unconscious. In my dream, I realized that everything I thought was real was just a dream. I had no wife, no children, no grandchildren. I was an emaciated old man with nothing to show for my life. It was sad and terrifying. I made myself wake up and was so happy to be in a world with my wife sleeping quietly beside me and all the people and things I love in place.
The talk I gave at church was about the need for righteous fathers in the home. Increasingly in today’s society, the role of fathers has diminished. Many children grow up in homes with reluctant or abusive fathers or without a father at all. Studies have shown that the lack of a father’s influence in a family is the basis for many, even most of the troubles in our society. I am blessed to have a wonderful father, a man who always sought to support us, who set an example of love and righteousness for us. My father is a great man. I don’t know how I’ve fared as a father, but I do know that being a father has been the best achievement of my life. My world would be empty and meaningless without my wife, my children, and my grandchildren and the love and joy with which they fill my life.
So we’re home from church. Lunch was warmed up leftover homemade pizza – a perfect Father's Day meal. I got some great gifts. My family always seems to know just what to get me. Now the afternoon stretches before me. It’s gotten a little sunnier outside. I’m thinking maybe a game of croquet or a nap would be nice. Maybe both.
