Tag Archives: summer

Flightingale Infirmary

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Flightingale Infirmary created by Linda, Norman & Joseph Legassie
photo by Barbara Rodgers

Florence Flightingale is a faerie specializing in wing repair.  Fireflies are the first-responders to the soft hush of the sunset’s glow – brightening the way for summertime fun – and even twilight painting.  But what happens when a firefly scorches a wing-tip?  It’s Flightingale to the rescue for all sorts of wing injuries: burned, torn, or just plain worn.  Indeed, this boulder’s shoulder is a welcomed sight when fluttering troubles strike for beetles, bees, birds, and butterflies.
(Wee Faerie Village: Land of Picture Making)

Branch Ranch

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Branch Ranch created by Robert Nielsen & Billie Tannen, Billie Beads
photo by Barbara Rodgers

Lief Falldownsoon is the king of the leaf fairies and is in charge of the legions of leaves that cover the trees.  Busy all summer helping the leaves turn sunlight into food for the trees, Lief and his kin at Branch Ranch, enjoy the fall the best when the leaves can all start to rest.  Although the green leaves inspire the landscape artists all summer, Lief knows that the real show happens when they begin to change color, turning from green to red, yellow, or gold before leaping into the blue sky for the twisty, twirly, gusty, blusty, ride to the ground.
(Wee Faerie Village: Land of Picture Making)

Summer Nights

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“The Mystery of a Summer Night” by Edvard Munch

Whichever road I follow, I walk in the land of many gods, and they love and eat one another.  Walking, I am listening to a deeper way.  Suddenly all my ancestors are behind me.  Be still, they say.  Watch and listen.  You are the result of the love of thousands.
~ Linda Hogan
(Dwellings: A Spiritual History of the Living World)

A friend posted part of the above quote on Facebook this morning and I couldn’t get it out of my mind.  I put the book it comes from on my “to-read” list.  Perhaps I will have more time for reading this winter.

My ancestors have been calling to me strongly since May and most of my time since then has been spent doing online research, and planning a research trip in the fall.  It’s actually one of Tim’s ancestors who is calling the loudest and most persistently – I have discovered a clue that might lead me to her parents, who I have been looking for, off and on, for thirty-seven years!

It’s a struggle for me to balance research, blogging, gardening, housework, preparing healthy meals, de-cluttering, visiting my dad, enjoying the summer…  Summer days are so long and mostly hot and humid, although we have had a few wonderful days here and there to enjoy onshore breezes and open windows.  I quickly grow weary of the drone from the necessary air-conditioning…

But summer evenings are the best!  Going to plays (Shakespeare-in-the-Park) and concerts (Dave Matthews Band) outside, seeing sunsets and starlight and the moonrise - the stuff memories are made of…

This past Sunday evening we went to Summer Music Sundays at Mystic Seaport for the first time.  We dined and had drinks under a huge maple tree outside of Schaefer’s Spouter Tavern (named for the tavern in Herman Melville’s Moby-Dick), with a view of tall ships moored to the dock on the Mystic River, and smaller boats sailing by while the sun set across the river.  We thoroughly enjoyed the music, guitar-playing singer Bruce Foulke, who treated us to some covers of old favorites by James Taylor, Carole King, Van Morrison, Eric Clapton…  It was a lovely, perfect evening!

What do you love best about summer?

The Chestnut Tree

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…lower branches of Dad’s chestnut tree in the garden, 21 June 2009…

“We lost the chestnut tree.”

My sister delivered the most important news first.  On Sunday we had last talked on our cell phones, and she let me know then that they had lost power at our father’s house, courtesy of the freak Halloween Nor’easter that caught Connecticut by surprise this past weekend, dumping over a foot of heavy wet snow on most of the state.  Dad had a cold, and they had the wood stove going trying to keep him warm.  Then her cell phone went dead and I heard nothing further.

This afternoon, two days later, she finally was able to make it down to her office and call me from work.  They have their power back now, but still no land line or cell phone service.  Beverly says I won’t believe the damage up there, although I am seeing many news reports on TV.  Apparently the state lost more trees in this storm than we did during Hurricane Irene.  With the wood stove they were able to keep Dad’s room at 70°F (21°C), although like many elderly ones, he doesn’t feel comfortable until the temperature is about 80°F (27°C).

When my father was a young man – he is now 89 years old – he found the chestnut sapling in Pennsylvania and brought it home with him, transplanted it in Connecticut soil, and nurtured it to a full-grown, gorgeous tree.  When his short-term memory started disappearing several years ago, he would tell me the story over and over, every time I went up for a visit, which used to be several times a week.  He looked forward to seeing it outside his window every morning, and was very attached to it, his special tree.

In June of 2010 it bloomed!  A lovely scent filled the air.  I’ll never forget it.

We used to decorate it with flower garlands for Midsummer.

And now the Halloween Nor’easter of 2011 has uprooted it.  Beverly reports that when Dad discovered what had happened he simply said, “This is demoralizing.”  I cried when she told me.  The storm also took the tops off several oak trees and the yard and the roads are a mess.  Poor trees.  They’ve taken such a beating this year…

the harvest moon…

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“The Harvest Moon” by George Hemming Mason

Under the harvest moon,
When the soft silver
Drips shimmering
Over the garden nights,
Death, the gray mocker,
Comes and whispers to you
As a beautiful friend
Who remembers.

Under the summer roses
When the flagrant crimson
Lurks in the dusk
Of the wild red leaves,
Love, with little hands,
Comes and touches you
With a thousand memories,
And asks you
Beautiful, unanswerable questions.

~ Carl Sandburg
(Under the Harvest Moon)