‘Mornin’, crew! Got an artsy one for you today. We’ll save the archetypical ramifications of Mike Tyson’s face breaking boxing for another time soon…(Consider yourself warned on both counts.)
I took a walk this morning, and decided that July is aptly named.
The Chicory impersonated the flashy Caesar a thousand times over, resplendent in tiny purple togas. The Nightshade bloomed shoulder to shoulder in the dewy grass, as if the stars had settled into the field to roost for the day. Perhaps the fireflies conducted them skyward at dusk.
“It’s gonna be a hot one, folks!” And bold.
The Sunbeams blazed lemon yellow through the mist, lighting spiderwebs like carnival posters. The brook laughed through the culvert. A cicada fiddled, testing the acoustics. I don’t speak Bug, but I assume he said “one two, mic check.”
When I was a kid, I went to the amusement park on just such a day. The vivid colors seemed as permanent as Greco-Roman architecture guarding some museum’s doorway.
As I trudged up the hill, Nature greeted me with her own Carnival. I waved back at the mighty hickory shading the field. “‘Morning, Earl!” (I sometimes name trees.) And then it happened.
The faintest breath of cool air brushed my face. I was 11 when it first made itself known. Playing in the back yard, the same breath materialized. I had looked wonderingly at the red oaks where it seemed to come from. A breeze played in their lush leaves, whispering: “Summer turns to Fall.”
July - this “Ghost of Christmas Present” - jolly, fierce, strong, as resplendent as Caesar in his purple toga - gets a gray hair. It’s not a sad thing - just a reminder that the wheel is always spinning, a knowing nod of the head from the red oaks on the ridgeline.
I can usually catch it most years, but never by looking for it. It always finds me. (Your luck might be different.)
So what? I was hoping you wouldn’t ask. I feel a cliché approaching out of the azure sky. (Heh.) I guess I’ll be “stepping right up” and enjoying the day a little bit more. Change sharpens my priorities, be it reveling in July, or getting my own act together. Ever notice how hydrangea flowers could be Nature’s answer to amusement park ice cream…you know, Dippin’ Dots?
“You’ll love it!”
Nightshade blooms in the shadow of Long Mountain