You and Dale have been climbing your own peaks lately (Dale - a marathon on Pike’s Peak, really? And when do you get that second star?). My personal peak has been more subtle; I’m grateful I didn’t pass over it without stopping to notice the summit.
I’m talking about Summer Solstice or Midsummer or Litha, whatever you prefer. I marked the holiday by sleeping out in the backyard, and woke to a beautiful planet in the first dawn of summer. I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of melancholy, for the days will now shorten, in tiny bits that aren’t noticeable at first, but by late August the angle of light will be telling. Just last weekend I picked our first alpine strawberries and already I have to face that winter is coming.
I suppose I could despair, but instead I will hold this as a reminder to relish the warm, bright days ahead. The garden is reaching that lovely state of anticipation as we start picking a few things, radishes, herbs, greens, and can see that tomatoes and eggplants are setting fruit and it will be a bumper crop of cherries. I am so enjoying the wedding flowers, so glad we went this route and that I get to be reminded of a loving event every time I walk out my door.
The red winged blackbirds must be fledging their young now. Groups of juveniles are appearing at our feeder, sticking together for safety and landing with the charming awkwardness and eagerness that teenagers of other species share. Then they poop on the deck, which in its own way reminds me of teenagers of other species, but I’m still happy to have had them all.
I don’t have much notable knitting to share - the onesy progresses but doesn’t look much different than last photo (though I knit on it quite awhile in the dark last night, which was so peaceful). I’m about to the scyes on the shell and the fabric remains enchanting to me. Here is a shot of the wrong side, though it is so pretty I hate to call it that.
I hope your rush of the last few days of your Colorado assignment doesn’t keep you from enjoying this beautiful summer.