Season Rolls Along

Cherries are ripening or ripe or already harvested, depending on which part of the county we're talking about. The crows are out in force, darn 'em! Crew shaking on Eagle Highway this morning. It may seem, on some rare overcast day, that the pause button has been hit, but in reality nature and time never slow down. 

We had a standing-room-only overflow crowd this past Thursday for Dennis Turner's TEA presentation, everyone fascinated by his story of Belgian nuns acting as rescuers and spies during World War II. Here is the beginning of the crowd assembling, having been warned to come early for good seats:

Here is Dennis, ready to go:

And here is the full house in David Grath's gallery and the overflow into Dog Ears Books, the series host:

Can you believe there are five Thursdays in August this year? Next week's guest, Virginia Johnson, brings us back to Michigan with her memoir of growing up on a self-sustaining farm during the Great Depression and beyond. Virginia sees many parallels between the way her parents farmed and today's back-to-the-landers with CSAs and regular farm market appearances. My regular readers know I have a strong inner farmer, so I'm pleased to have agriculture represented by a speaker this summer. Please join us -- again! -- on Thursday, August 2, 7 p.m.

The Pause Button

Aren’t there certain times of the year, particular days, when you would love to hit a PAUSE button and stop time, stretching a single day into a couple of weeks? I have that urge every year in the spring when the first impressionist flush of color touches branches trees across the fields, and we must all have the feeling during perfect vacation moments or watching young grandchildren at play. For me, summer rain delivers at least the illusion of a pause in time. 

On sunny days, I am conscious of the progress of daylight from dark to first light to sunrise, of the sun’s rapid climb and then its descent and setting, but the light of an overcast day, with the source behind clouds, is more diffuse, and so the hours are not marked off with any kind of clarity. Cool, rainy nights are “good sleeping weather,” and the hushed days are good reading weather. Having reached the final page of Paul Theroux’s book of travel essays, Fresh Air Fiend, I passed it on to the Artist and have been making my way slowly, in fits and starts, through a novel, The Book of Crows, by Sam Meekings. There is nothing cozier than reading side by side on the porch on a rainy summer evening, our dog at our feet. 

I know my sensation is not an objective reality. Time has not stopped or even slowed down. But it feels to me as if it has, and that feels good! And a rainy summer Sunday is the best!

When the rains come, I don’t need to water my gardens and can give myself a temporary reprieve from laundry (I don’t mind hanging laundry outdoors in the sun and then having it rained on, delivering “rainwater softness” to our clothes and linens, but I don’t stand outside in the rain with clothespins in my mouth), and on Sunday, the bank and post office and library are all closed, and the farm market was on Friday. So, no morning errands! Summer, however, does not admit of “days off,” and so we will soon be in Northport, taking up our stations on Waukazoo Street. But that can be pretty cozy, too, as our visitors will attest. 

And so summer flows on….

This coming Thursday at Dog Ears Books

This coming Thursday is the sixth of my TEA events (Thursday Evening Authors), with Dennis Turner reading from his novel, based on historical fact, What Did You Do in the War, Sister? That’s at 7 p.m., as usual. Hope to see you there!