One of the things I notice lately is that when I wake up full-tank-ready for the day, by three or so, I need to refuel. Yesterday, I stretched out on the couch, put on a podcast, and zonked out immediately. I never used to take naps.
I was just about to take one the other day when it started to rain. At first it seemed I could let the windows stay open, but it was a deluge. After I scurried through the house to shut them all, I followed up with rags to wipe the wet sills dry. By then I wasn’t sleepy anymore.
Throughout the night, rain came and went. Pound. Quiet. Pound some more. Quiet. In between downpours, the wind took over and I listened. This morning, as I waited for my tea, I opened the door, stood on the stoop and looked straight up through the trees. Then, with a start, walked to check the garden.
When our small vegetable patch started to wake up early this spring, we found 13 or so volunteer tomato plants. I transplanted them by sinking them deeply into the ground. After the rain, they are growing before my eyes. I hope they don’t run out of steam the way I do.
Speaking of running out of things, I also put in four Swiss Chard plants, but some critter- a deer or rabbit- ate three of them, leaving one for us. I wonder if the freeloader was scared away by a fox or raccoon - I’ve never heard of anyone filling up on Swiss Chard. That lone surviving bunch is standing there lush and ready. I wanted to dash out between showers and pick it before I lost it to the critter.
The next day when I went out to rescue the Swiss Chard, I got distracted. It’s mid-July, and already our basil is trying to bolt. I quick-pinched off the flower spikes, to keep the leaves from turning tough. I hate it when the basil turns all bitter.
Another thing I hate is when our refrigerator gets so full I can’t find anything. Especially in the summer. Where to put the watermelon? What happened to the ketchup? When it comes to leftovers, I’m in the waste not category. The last few Brussels sprouts. That bit of salad. I always think we’ll have it for lunch and sometimes we do. And then we don’t. On Monday I emptied it, threw everything out, and washed every square inch. I’m still mourning the half-container of blueberries now withered, the nectarines gone soft and the salad greens turned yellow. But ooooh, I peeked in there today and it’s squeaky clean.
Even when the temperatures are in the low eighties, the sun feels too hot and I’m dogged by summer’s heat, I still take walks. My legs can feel like lead, but the slowed down pace allows me to savor ideas and replay last night’s conversations. At the top of a hill, I wait for the hint of a breeze. Walkers stop and we huddle beneath branches in the shade. Can you believe this heat? Stay cool! And we're off on our separate ways.
I visit more in summer, turn more pages, nap, sip cold tea, sing more, suspect less - and spend much more time looking up.
. . .one for us
WannaskaWriterJuly 27, 2026 at 4:32 AM
ReplyDeleteOpening your post before 4 am, I recognized Swiss Chard immediately; it's a very old memory of Roseau when my Grandma Palm lived one door west of the Eastside Grocery store on Center Street, and two doors east of Mable Johnson with a vacant lot in-between. Because of this seemingly wild expanse, Mable had made a garden, among her other plantings, in which she had planted Swiss Chard. The day I remember, may well have been in 1960 or so; Mable took pride in showing my mother Violet, and Violet's mother Anna, aka my Grandma Palm and I, her plants. Maybe because Swiss Chard resembles both rhubarb, and Sour Dock: (https://backyardforager.com/dock-genus-rumex/) R. hymenosepalus (wild rhubarb) is why I have coveted that memory these 66 years (However accurate it seems) and is one of Grandma Palm that I remember at all. Thank you for helping me 'bring each one back to life.'
Up at three, up by four? What’s with you guys? No wonder you need naps.
ReplyDeleteSee comma. Three in the afternoon!
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