The End of May

We are almost at the end of May and that makes me a little sad. It seems to me that the cold dark months drag on endlessly and the green warm months pass by in a flash. Part of the reason why the months of May through August seem to go so quickly is that they are busy months for me. A day spent out in the garden always seems short to me. I set out in the mornings with a list of things I want to accomplish and, before I realize it, the day is gone and only half of the tasks are finished. That’s how it was last week.

Last week was our last week of school and, as usual, I was not called in. Most teachers don’t miss the last days of school when there are final exams. So I had the whole week to myself and I had a long list of things to do. The weather was fine, although several mornings were pretty chilly. Even the rainy days were nice. Every day, as soon as the dew was gone, I was outdoors working. I weeded, tilled, planted, edged, and mowed all week. I had a glorious time. Now looking back at it all, I feel a sense of accomplishment. But I still haven’t finished everything on my list. I have plenty to do this week as we move from May into June.

One of my projects last week, weeding and planting this flowerbed.

June is my favorite month of the year. It blesses us with the longest hours of daylight. It is warm, but not hot. And the world is radiant in June. The flower beds shift from spring into summer. The tulips and daffodils are gone, but poppies and peonies will soon take their place. Out in the vegetable garden, we will only pick asparagus for a little while longer, but the first lettuces and spinach will be ready soon and summer’s bounty lies ahead. If all goes well, we’ll have ripe strawberries before the month is out.

Sunset one evening last week.

On Wednesday last week, Stacey and I celebrated our 38th anniversary. I say we celebrated, but it wasn’t a party. We’ve never made a big event of our anniversaries. Because we originally were married on Memorial Day weekend and our anniversary falls sometime around that day every year, we tend to combine the two. I find it hard to believe at times that we have been married as long as we have. But then, it also seems like we have been together forever. Considering that I got married when I was twenty-six and now have been married for thirty-eight years, that’s twelve years longer married than when I was single. In the thirty-eight years we’ve been man and wife, we’ve lived in eight different homes, had eight children, and made eight gardens. Now we’ve settled into our eighth and final home, we have eight (almost) grandchildren, and garden number eight is in its twenty-second year of production. I feel very blessed – blessed that my wife decided to marry me, blessed that she has endured all my faults and foibles through all these years, blessed that she is such a great companion and mother and grandmother, blessed that I have such good children and grandchildren, and especially blessed to know that we can be together forever.

At the Washington Temple earlier in May.

Because the weather was so fine, we were feeling confident that we are done with frost now and we began planting out a few days ahead of schedule. On Thursday we planted peppers, dahlias, and gladiolus. Yesterday we planted some of our tomatoes. Tomorrow we will probably plant the rest. We prepared a third bed out in the big garden for pumpkins. We already had one prepared for squash and will make one more for melons. By the end of this week I will have those three beds planted. And in a further act of confidence and hope, I disconnected the heaters in the greenhouse and in the chicks’ pen down in the barn and bundled up all the extension cords and put them away.

Planting tomatoes.

These last days of May have been among the most fragrant I can remember. It was the perfect combination of warm air, soft breezes, and the simultaneous flowering of the lilacs, lily-of-the-valley, bluebells, wild cherry trees, and woodland azaleas. I don’t remember ever being able to smell the sweet perfume of the lily-of-the-valley from a distance. Usually you have to bring them close to the nose, but last week I could smell them from far across the yard. The dame’s rocket is beginning to bloom in the wilder parts of yard and along the roadsides and in the evenings the smell of it is wonderful. To me fragrance in the garden is almost as important as color and form. A rose has to be fragrant to meet with my full approval no matter how pretty it might be. And if there is a variety of a certain flower that is fragrant as opposed to an unscented variety, I will always choose the scented one. Many flowers that were once fragrant, but the plant breeders selected some other trait to enhance at the expense of their fragrance. There are still old-fashioned and strongly perfumed varieties of snapdragons, pansies, violas, pinks, and other flowers. They are the ones I choose, if I can find them.

White lilac.

My most fragrant purple lilac.

Azalea and bluebells in the woodland garden.

Dame's rocket and bluebells.

The Thayns came up to spend Memorial Day weekend with us. They arrived on Friday afternoon. The day had been rainy, but it stopped long enough in the evening to enjoy some time outdoors after dinner. Saturday was rainy all morning, but in the afternoon it cleared and we worked and played outdoors.

Friday evening on the front lawn.

It was cool and foggy when I went out on my Sabbath morning walk. Everything was drenched with dew. I walked through the gardens first then down to the beaver pond. I have an app on my phone for identifying birds that has recordings of their songs. I could hear warblers singing in the brush along the pond but couldn’t see them. I played one of the songs on my app to try and identify them. I suspected they were Yellow Warblers and I was right. As soon as they heard my recorded song, two of them flew up to a bush in front of me to investigate. They perched there for several minutes. There were three Eastern Kingbirds sitting on a branch right over the water. I played a recording of their dawn song and they flew right over me to check me out. They perched on a branch nearby and sang to me for several minutes. It was delightful.

My Sabbath morning walk.

On my Sabbath morning walk.

On my Sabbath morning walk.

On my Sabbath morning walk.

The morning fog burned off quickly after the sun was up and the day warmed. Driving to and from church was beautiful. The trees are in full leaf now and everything is so green. Along the roads the dame’s rocket and cow parsley and buttercups are beautiful. Stacey and I spoke at church today. Her talk was on ways to remember the important events by creating memorials in our families. My talk was on the parable of the wheat and tares. Now we are home. Lunch is done – leftover pizza from last night’s dinner – and we’ve settled in to a quiet Sabbath afternoon.

Playing Carcassonne, my favorite game.

Tomorrow is Memorial Day. We plan to go to the parade in Ulysses in the morning and after that, go around to some of the cemeteries where our people are buried. Tomorrow afternoon we’ve planned an all-American cookout with hot dogs, hamburgers, bratwurst, watermelon, potato salad, pasta salad, homemade ice cream and all the other good food fit for the occasion. Tomorrow evening, Tabor and Rachel are going home, but their girls are staying here for the week. Hannah and Miriam will take them home on Friday. So we have a busy, fun week ahead of us. The weather looks good. It’s going to be a good week.