Day in Paradise. The soft chuckling of a sleepy hen. Strident peeping from not one, but two, cowbird chicks tormenting their song sparrow foster mom.
The scent of something minty out on the lawn where Jade is mowing. Finally it is not raining so he can.
Deep, rich, black, garden earth, crumbling underfoot. Two rows of beans failed...old seed I guess...so there is replanting in the sweet, sweet sun, listening to singing from gold finches and the Carolina wren and the distant clamor of the crows. For the wrens a second nesting maybe...they have been on the porch, but they spend a lot of time over at the cow barn too.
The air is redolent, ripe, and drowsy with the heavy scent of wild, white roses. All the rest of the year they are a hated pest, spoken of in the same voice as skunks and slugs...but in June, ah, sweet, strawberry June, they are the most wonderful thing around.
The sun is up before we are and hangs just below the silvered horizon at bed time. It is tame as a kitten in June, warm, friendly, close enough for comfort.
Nights are open-window brisk, air as clean as mountain water, and as clear and sweetly savored.
Not for nothing is June my favorite month, but rather for everything.
Hear! Hear!
ReplyDeleteTruer words never written.
There are so many favorite lines here.
ReplyDeleteSo glad I don't have to choose.
You are blessed and have written one of the loveliest paens to June - ever.
June, and then last night it showed its other face....
ReplyDeleteCathy, thanks, despite hell storms like last night I love it. Almost over though.