Sultry afternoons. The air hangs like a heavy syrup, a slow-dripping sap, from which we feel we won't escape. The long days, the heat, the humidity, all these things suspend us in the time-stretched haze we call summer.
Bluebird skies and lemony blooms draw my eyes skyward as I walk. I make my way through the honeyed atmosphere more slowly, out of necessity and also out of respect for this season. I do not adore it as so many do, and yet these moments hold me in their sway.
Arriving at a favorite overlook, I find familiar flora transformed by the heat and the light.
Turning a corner, this sight ensnared me for several minutes. The color and the light and the shade. Only summer holds sway here.
I wend my way along toward home again, and the flowers seem to smile and say, We hold winter's rain and spring's promise in every spectrum, and you are welcome here as well.
June Gloom overtook the region, carrying over from May Gray. I’m not one to complain about this weather phenomenon in SoCal, because well do I know the furnace that awaits in August and September. I’ve indulged in brisk walks and I’ve dared to have hot tea. Besides, the gray skies make the flowers glow.
The month canters ahead, full of activity. Many things are unfolding rapidly, more rapidly than the blooms it would seem. I do pause to look at the flowers, though, as I dash hither and yon.
And I always stop at a Little Free Library. This one caught my eye recently:
Can we talk about the landscaping first? You can’t see the rest of this lady’s yard, but let me tell you, it’s a complete dream. She’s a plant sorceress. And look at what she’s done with the Little Free Library case! Adding decorative branches!
Aren’t these things delightful? I think my neighborhood has four Little Free Libraries that I know of. They’re popping up everywhere, like June flowers. And the best part is, they’re little treasure chests, you never know what’s in them. And it feels grand not only to find a read, but to return and put another one in for someone else. Our family loves everything about this. Books in bloom!
There my dreams drifted, their gossamer threads caught as a garland among the purple.