midsummer

 I look out my window into the night, and see fireflies flashing everywhere. I’d like to see them close up, but it’s not supposed to get below eighty till after one o’clock; I’ll stay in. 

It’s Midsummer's Eve. I have puzzled over that for years: it just turned summer, and now it’s midsummer.  But there was something on a weather site the other day which mentioned solar summer - which is May, June and July. Now that makes sense; if summer starts in May, it would be midsummer now. Now I can turn my wondering to the next thing.

days off

 We've had some people leave the library for various reasons, so I've worked a few double shifts - not exactly double, but I stayed till closing, eleven hour days. But now I have a week off! Sewing and gardening are the plan.

I'm making a dress with a firefly-printed cotton. A sleeveless maxi, a-line, a pattern I've used before. I'm almost done!

I've also got a dragonfly fabric in the wings. Black, with blue, purple and gold dragonflies. No plan yet.

twinklings

 When I'm not too tired, I go out after dark (a little after nine), and look for the fireflies. This is their time, the peak of firefly season. I stand on the bridge and look to the left; I see flashes of light here, there, near, a way off; I turn right and they are flashing among the tall weeds along the brook's edge. I look up and see some in the tree-top and sometimes they come along the grass near my feet. I wonder why I don't get a chair and just sit there for a length of time? But it's hard to burn the candle at both ends at my age.

Like children we stand and stare, watching the field
that twinkles where gold wisps fare to the end
of dusk, as the sudden sphere, ivory shield
aloft, of moon stands clear of the world's far bend.

- from Fireflies, by Fred Chappell

summer approaches

 The birds are quieter, the fireflies are increasing and a mockingbird sang a brief concert on the power line. The air gets more humid, but nights are still pleasant; the rabbits are more used to our human noises - there was one out my window yesterday afternoon while my neighbor was mowing nearby! 

My little garden crops are getting bigger and there aren't any weeds due to the grass clippings all around.

My dress needs the side seams sewn and then it will look like something. I wake up with the sun in the mornings, but am too tired at the other end of the day.

I want to plan a menu for the longest day of the year, which is next week. It's supposed to be hot. I'll have to take that into consideration.

I suppose I could start the day with pancakes.
  

night creatures

I just went out across the brook to watch the fireflies. Sunset was half an hour ago, and it's not very dark yet, but getting to be. I stood at the end of the bridge and they began to appear, one or two on the right, and then a few way over into the clearing, flashing and sparkling as they do. Then, a possum (opossum, really) came along from the right hand side. He didn't see me, just traveled along the edge of our property, sniffing at an evergreen shrub. I cleared my throat but he didn't stop. But when I moved, and my keys jingled (I brought them in case I got locked out), he stopped. I stayed still and said something encouraging; he continued over to the brook. They used to put me in mind of a big rat, but I find them rather endearing now. I was glad to see him. 

According to Silent Sparks, by Sara Lewis, adult fireflies live only a few weeks! How many strange things there are in this world. I'm grateful for the yearly show.

the first one

 I saw a firefly last night -  only one. So far. Just for the record.

keeping fireflies alive

 I am still reading the Gladys Taber; it was the February chapter and she was talking about the bird bath water which had thawed. I suddenly remembered how stagnant the brook's water is, how dry and hot it is now. I went out and dragged the bird bath from the shed. 

It's kind of in a spot by itself, but it was level there and we've got no tree to put it under anymore. I don't want it in the front yard - it wouldn't look good, so it's out in the sun. I also put a tin foil dish with water on the bridge, for the ground creatures. Tonight I added some apple slices to the water - it looked untouched, but maybe a night animal will find it. I hope. A racoon, or opossum. A skunk, maybe. I'll check it in the morning. It seems to take them a while to realize the water is there.

I'm very excited to have this book about fireflies. I had the sudden idea that if I loved them so much, maybe there was a readable, but not too childish or too technical book, and this is the ticket! I've also got The Psychology of Totalitarianism by Mattias Desmet (you've either heard of him or you haven't) and Klara and the Sun, which is with an online discussion with Joy Clarkson - her annual summer selection. It's not anything I'd ever pick up, but I'm starting to get an interest. 

Yesterday someone returned a copy of The Great Gatsby, and I decided to take it. 

I tried to photograph it on the windowsill, and Annie kept passing back and forth - I gave up trying to do it well. 

Too many books at once, I think. 

wonder and possibility

 "In the beginner's mind there are many possibilities, but in the expert's there are few."*

                                                - from Silent Sparks: The Wondrous World of Fireflies, by Sara Lewis

*Shunryu Suzuki

July magic

 I finished washing the dishes rather late - it was almost dark. Almost, but you could still see shapes of trees and other things. And fireflies were twinkling across the brook. In past years I've watched them out my north window, flashing along the forsythia hedge where the catbirds sleep. Or a little farther off, in front of a big clump of tall things growing there forever, whatever they are. Big weeds. They show up well in front of dark bushes. But this summer they seem to mostly appear out my east window, in the back yard across the brook. This evening I followed them.

The twinkling! It's indescribable. Either you've seen it a thousand times (which means you need to read some fairy tales before it's too late for you), or it doesn't matter how often you see it - magic is still magic. It's always new. 

"borrowed" from the internet

from one thing to another

The fireflies are out there, darting and twinkling. I brought my ipad outside, thinking to film them. I couldn't. Is it possible? But why are people in their houses, not even caring this display goes on every year at this time? This magic.

Dolly would eat all day long - she often falls asleep with her head near the bowl.

We opened the library to the public. Almost everyone tells us how glad they are we're open. One woman who lives across the street said that when she was alone over these few months of quarantine, she'd look over and feel better, knowing we were there, at work. She's a quiet woman - you never know what people are feeling.

I like to look at my magazines that come every month and write down things which inspire me: projects, recipes, images. There was a cauliflower soup; it seemed nothing unusual. Meanwhile, when the whole virus started up and there were gaps in the grocery aisles and we didn't know how bad it would get or what to expect, we bought some canned soups and vegetables. Now, I'm wanting to use up some of this stuff. So today I cooked up a head of cauliflower with tarragon and pureed it along with some chicken gelatin and water, then added two cans of chicken soup and half a can of peas. It was quite good! And all just because I saw a picture of something.

Sweetie had her biopsy on Tuesday, soon we'll see what the results are.

hot like summer, but no fireflies yet

I have surprised myself at how well I'm doing with my hand warmers - I've only had to rip it out once, and that was at the beginning. I'm ready to switch back to the smaller needles to do ribbing, bind off, and make the thumb on the first one.

I'm still enjoying Out of Africa - her way of seeing things, and then telling them is so appealing to me. Here she speaks of a plane ride:

We landed on the white shore, that was white-hot as an oven, and lunched there, taking shelter against the sun under the wing of an aeroplane. If you stretched out your hand from the shade, the sun was so hot that it hurt you. Our bottles of beer when they first arrived with us, straight out of the ether, were pleasantly cold, but before we had finished them, in a quarter of an hour, they became as hot as a cup of tea.

I have this week off from work, and even though it's May, it's just like a summer vacation: hot and humid, except the nights are still pleasant, unlike in July when we usually have these temperatures. I'm loving it!  Memorial Day was very nice; quite warm but cloudy, and comfortable to sit outside for hours.  The only things lacking are the fireflies - it's too early for them yet.

making the pasta salad

The Fireflies

Here in the highlands, when the long rains are over, and in the first week of June nights begin to be cold, we get the fireflies in the woods. 

On an evening you will see two or three of them, adventurous lonely stars floating in the clear air, rising and lowering, as if upon waves, or as if curtseying. To that rhythm of their flight they lighten and put out their diminutive lamps. You may catch the insect and make it shine upon the palm of your hand, giving out a strange light, a mysterious message, it turns the flesh pale green in a small circle round it. The next night there are hundreds and hundreds in the woods.

For some reason they keep within a certain height, four or five feet, above the ground. It is impossible then not to imagine that a whole crowd of children of six or seven years, are running through the dark forest carrying candles, little sticks dipped in a magic fire, joyously jumping up and down, and gamboling as they run, and swinging their small pale torches merrily. The woods are filled with a wild frolicsome life, and it is all perfectly silent.

- Out of Africa,  by Isak Dinesen

Thanks to Ginny and her yarnalong

fireflies

I spent the better part of a half-hour trying to photograph fireflies out my bedroom window tonight.  Nothing.

"There is certainly something a little supernatural about fireflies. Nobody pretends to understand them. They are akin to the tribes of fairy, survivals of the elder time when the woods and hills swarmed with the little green folk. It is still very easy to believe in fairies when you see those goblin lanterns glimmering among the fir tassels."


                                        -  L.M. Montgomery,  The Golden Road