“How did it get so late so soon?
Its night before its afternoon.
December is here before its June.
My goodness how the time has flewn.
How did it get so late so soon?”
– Dr. Seuss
I’ve been clinging to May, not wanting it to end. Perhaps, I do that these days with all of the months (well, maybe not February), but how lovely it has been with soft air, filled by the scent of lilacs. Over the holiday week-end, we put the old aluminum fishing boat in the water and went for a little evening cruise. Rich, my son-in-law, named the boat, Boatie Mcpileface, after the infamous incident in which the motor fell off the back one summer day, into twenty plus feet of water, while Don was at the helm. It is quite the story which involves Rich and grandkids snorkeling off the raft, in search of the underwater motor, a hired scuba diver, and late hours in the garage as Don and Rich poured quart after quart of oil into the motor. They saved it, and for the birthdays last year, Rich gave us highball glasses, etched with the name “Boatie Mcpileface” on the side, and a drawing of the motor, which comes into view when you’ve finished your margarita. Don is still not laughing about it– nor the ‘adventures’ we had last summer with our new sailboat– especially the one in which he, the Captain, jumped overboard to save the ship from crashing on the rocks. Yet, such are memories of summertime.
And, this past week-end, while we cruised along the placid lake, as sailboats floated in the distance, and people sunned themselves on Adirondack chairs at the end of docks, I remembered Summer–the lake smell, the scent of sunshine warming the fir trees, campfires at dusk. I remembered the smell of lying in the grass, as a child, making daisy chains, with the sound of small airplanes high in the sky, and a lawn mower somewhere in the distance, and the smell of sheets fresh off the clothesline. It all comes back in June, and I am ready now. It’s time to say farewell to May, and call it quits with all those spring chores. “And suddenly you know…it’s time to start something new and trust the magic of beginnings.” (This Ivy House blog). The moon sparkles on the water, periwinkle Lupines and white Wake-Robins line the roadside, and the Wild Rose have sprouted on our walkway down to the house. It’s gently raining this morning and the only movement in the trees is when water splashes down through the branches. June has arrived.
“The castle grounds were gleaming in the sunlight as though freshly painted; the cloudless sky smiled at itself in the smoothly sparkling lake, the satin-green lawns rippled occasionally in a gentle breeze: June had arrived.”
―J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix