Summer Becomes Spring

by Mimi Hedl

Every once in a while in the midst of summer, summer becomes spring if only for a brief morning. That recently happened after a long awaited rain. Before the rains came everything seemed desperate, even the birds. I spied two, TWO, brown thrashers at the bird bath, taking a bath together. They looked so big from the window, fifty feet away, at first I thought the mourning doves had come for the first bath I’d ever seen them take. Through the binoculars, I could see the long tail, the rufous back and striped belly that identified the thrashers as kin to the mockingbird. I couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw them splash, like my grandsons did at bath time as young ones. It positively took the heat out of the blistering day. I stood there laughing at the delight they took in their bath.  (I took a photo through the window and hopefully my dear Editor will accept the less than perfect picture.) After they’d left I braved the heat to fill up the bath with another quart of water for the next bathers as birds get over heated and stressed too.

Since I had decided not to irrigate the gardens, only water the plants in containers, I’ve had to be content to watch the drought take its toll on water-loving plants like cucumbers and melons. I’ve also been amazed at how tomatoes and peppers, beans and parsley, hang on quite nicely, thank you, with the thick mulch protecting their roots and that underground, mysterious river nurturing them. They may droop in the day to conserve moisture, but come evening, they perk up. Granted, they aren’t putting on tons of tomatoes but they’re doing the tortoise thing, hanging on, waiting for cooler weather, grateful for the underworld of riches.

The rest of the sweltering day and evening I did what people the world over do and have done, I endured. I did my suffering somewhat bravely, barely moving except to eat a meager dinner, drink lots of water and grudgingly do my tai chi. I tried to remain positive about the possibility of rain, but the predictions have not born fruit so I fell into the summertime blues trying out my fake smiles and pretending I was happy.

As I cleared the table on the summer kitchen after dinner I noticed dark clouds in the north and west. Opening the screen door and leaning outside to look further north I felt a breeze, a real breeze, and it felt delightful. Then I saw a bolt of lightning and over the next hour the drama unfolded with strong, bountiful rain pouring onto our parched, beloved piece of earth. Ecstasy.

The next day after that glorious rain, I walked outside and felt the vibrancy of the landscape after a restorative rain. I thought, “this is what spring feels like”. After the darkness of winter our senses come alive with color and after a drought too.

I put a lawn chair in the shade and spent some time sitting, enjoying spring in summer. I looked up at the maple tree and saw the tiny samaras forming, helicopter seeds because they spin through the air as they fall  like a helicopter propeller. I’ve been too busy in past years to notice them when they’re young and colorful. Then I looked down and saw the bottle brush grass, a favorite, moving with the breeze, moving me.

From this same vantage point gold finches, a group of eight or nine, dipped and dived like only they can do all the while chirping a youthful call. Do they ever grow old? They settled on the grey-headed coneflowers, bending them to the ground with their weight, eating the seed before it matured, chattering in between bites.

 I couldn’t help but notice the greens that looked drab only a day ago had taken on a whole new depth of greenness. Blindingly beautiful, shimmering in the light. I breathed in deeply and tilted my head back. Up high I saw three buzzards patrolling the sky, soaring gracefully. Two indigo buntings flew into the shrubs close by as if they had a mission, then detected me even though I didn’t move and flew off. The price of this beauty – sitting still.

That reminded me of an older man on my mail route in Boulder. One summer day he sat in the shade in front of his house with a big wash tub filled with collard greens. He greeted me and we talked like we usually did. I said something about what a big job that was to take the ribs out of all those greens. He looked at me and laughed and said, “I can’t think of a better way to spend a summer morning.” So there he sat, quietly in the shade, doing a simple task, enjoying a summer day. I often think of him when I feel harassed by life and forget how to live.

Ambling about, I took these photographs. They show a piece of what the rain brought out. Let them gladden your hearts as the ‘spring in summer’ did mine.