July 2009


Summer. Much anticipated, sought after and adored, has arrived. Or so we hope. So much heat and glaring sun cause those of us in the Northwest to scramble and find our sun block and darkest UV-glasses. We toss our layers of clothing into the corner of the closet and hunt under the bed for our sandals.


Mother Nature beckons us to late sunsets dipping into the glittering Puget Sound, along with BBQ’s of salmon cooked on cedar planks accompanied by a nice chilled Washington white wine. If only we could hold and keep weeks of these heavenly perfect temperatures . . . if only. The truth shatters our hopes with maybe five consecutive days of bliss until an offshore front moves in and rolls over us with clouds and rain. But ever the optimists we look forward to the next few days of bliss.


My writing takes great effort in the summer because there are too many distractions in the garden. So many beautiful colors and every time I turn a corner on the pebbled pathway something makes me catch my breath. Dawn in the garden is my favorite time. Sunlight makes everything sparkle and glitter. The little goldfinches sit on the edge of the fountain like yellow gems. And the sky is like a busy freeway with birds zooming in and around the trees and hedges.


The air is filled with heady cinnamon perfume from the Ragusa rose. No fussy unscented hybrids in this garden. Peonies’ scent is delicate, Honeysuckle is sweet, and clematis mixes it up with golden hops on the side of the barn. The bearded irises were wonderful, and the lavender spikes are filling out. Germander is almost blooming and fleabane is just starting to take off as are Styrex trees. Petunias on a hot day smell just like warm horse flesh. Yes they do. The vegetable garden is poking along. It has been cold at night!


It is hard to write scenes with violent antagonists when peace and beauty lies just outside the door. Sigh, I have been substituting writing for reading and research. I will save antagonists for a rainy day.


The Pugs are sleeping through the heat of the day after chasing away the noisy woodpeckers and Stellar jays this morning. The puppies have decided they don’t like the sound these birds make . . .too funny. The elderly Papillons only react if quail are in the yard. They take off like white fluff balls thinking they will catch a fat bird too heavy to take off. Furry optimists.