Tiny but mighty

Berries are one of the treats I love most about summer. Yes, the blackberries are the ones I pick every year. I'm also a slave to pruning them, where they grow along the fence out back of our house. During summer, I trim them every week to keep them happy. 

Those little raspberries though are a new discovery. 

There's a vacant lot (for sale, of course) across the street and along with the free bouquets I've been picking there since spring, I recently discovered a wild raspberry bush. 

The fruits are small, and there aren't ever very many, but WOW are they ever sweet and delicious. 

You can bet I'm hoping that next summer the lot will remain vacant, and will again serve as my go-to flower shop as well as the spot for picking tiny red berries. Yum. 

Fleeting

Feels like summer is flying past too quickly. Not as fast as the blur of the hummingbird's wings, but wheee, here we go, nearly August!

The blackberries are fat and sweet and plentiful, but the rest of the fruit in the yard is pretty pathetic. Even the quince tree (usually loaded) has only a few for us to pick this year. Maybe by September, a few more will have magically appeared. 

Worst, I suppose, is the plum tree: one plum. At least that was the score last time I checked. Who knows, the squirrel may have decided it looked ripe enough for him. 

Lettuces, basil, tomatoes--hurrah for the die-hards. Even if the freezer won't be filled with berries this year, at least we're still happily enjoying fresh salads. 

And probably best of all, after a couple of months with no hummers in sight, it's great that a pair (at least) seems to have returned. 

Here they come!

Another round of pruning the blackberries serves to remind me that the job is worth the effort. The branches are loaded with a burden of would-be berries. Bees are busy at work, pollinating the flowers. Some of the stems already bear miniature fruit. 

The timing seems right, as tomorrow will be Solstice. And even the weather seems to finally be in agreement, the sun's ray offering comfort and warmth. 

Now if only the rest of the world could display such harmony as this little patch of what most consider an invasive weed brings to my heart (and to folks along my laneway who get their own section for picking). 

Tide's out

...and so were we. Out on a small camping trip, though hardly what I'd call 'real' camping, as we don't sleep in a tent much anymore, but in the comfy protection of The Rattler, our beloved RV. 

It had been a busy time, with a visitor staying with us, along with several touristical trips (all interesting, beautiful and happy), but last week became our turn for complete rest and relaxation. 

A quick trip to the nearby Point Roberts and the campgrounds at Lighthouse Marine Park filled the bill. Except for the sounds of birdsong (and the occasional excitement of a small plane coming in on the grassy landing strip) it was wonderfully quiet, leaving us with nothing much to do beyond strolling on the beach. 

This time of year sees the broadest beach exposure, owing to the big tides that accompany the days around the Solstice. Official days of summer, coming soon. More excuses, I trust, to be lazy. 

Just peachy

Poking around for information about peaches, I found that there's a state in the US that claims it as their state symbol. But gosh, wouldn't you know that it would have to be Georgia, the state that's making more than its share of news these days. 

I'd rather not hear or see more about he-who-shall-not-be-mentioned. 

Instead, I'm looking forward to being able to pick and eat one of these glowing orbs from the brave little peach tree in our back yard as it's spent the summer surviving extended drought and now, smoky air. 

Nonetheless, I'm counting on it tasting as explosively delicious as its companions have in previous years--one of the highlight treats of summer! 

Tide's out!

A beach is always interesting, and always in its own way. 

This is a beach south of Vancouver, those long tides always a sign of coming-soon Solstice. Two weeks today. 

First quarter of the June moon this morning. When it's full on the 14th, it's supposed to mean the first strawberries will be sweet. 

Sun shining again today, but still, that gusty breeze has something almost autumny about it. Towels didn't seem to mind though, flapping on the line, and oh, I so love the scent they bring into the house! 

With written records indicating celebratory observances from as long ago as the 13th century, a lot of people seem to think the world looks a little brighter as they mull the thought sumer is icumen in.

For the birds?

July is supposed to be the happiest of months. Or maybe somehow I just have that stuck in my mind. Maybe because it's the first month of no school. Or maybe because I often go to Kansas for the Amelia Earhart Festival (cancelled again this year) and its exciting display of fireworks. 

It's traditionally been the month when I get back down to plenty of leisure reading. Something about warm weather that makes me want to sit outside with a book -- a great excuse for not doing anything more energetic. 

When I used to work in schools, July felt like the time when I was finally free of responsibilities of classroom teaching (marking, ugh) or library work (inventory, double-ugh). So the idea of free reading is one I still associate with this month. 

Again going back to work days, my brain never seemed ready to tackle 'big' books. I'd start off by reading a few of Tintin's adventures, and then gradually go forward to books like David and the Phoenix or The Secret Garden. Before the month would be out, my brain would be back in gear and ready to tackle some grown-up books. 

Even though I no longer have those mega-duties anymore, I still find myself doing 'warm-up' reading with what might these days be called YA materials. This year, it was GG-winner, The King of Jam Sandwiches, followed by the old-fashioned pleasures of a Green Knowe book from Lucy M. Boston. 

Already I've managed to roar through Thomas King's latest, the very timely, Sufferance, much of it actually set on the site of a residential school. Among the residents of this very fine book is a passel of crows, one of whom stopped by on one of our skylights. Not sure if he thought he could get inside or what. Must have been a nice buffet of dead bugs up there. Or maybe he was just looking down onto my current stack of library books, hoping to find something good to read. 

Berry hopeful

That's how I've been feeling this week, even on those days when it rained. This has much to do with the fact that I spent at least two of those rainy evenings watching the Democratic Convention from the US. Wow, some speakers!

And because I am, in addition to being hopeful, feeling pretty lazy, the link above not only tells you about the event, but provides links to excerpts from some of those outstanding speeches (see especially those by Michelle and Barack Obama). 

Besides, I've just spent nearly an hour picking some of those wonderful blackberries -- now at their peak of sweet ripeness -- so I reckon I now need to do something with them. Maybe even make a pie to keep in the freezer for a wintry day when we need a shot of summer, even if it's only a taste of it. 

The delight of reading children's books

I used to work in schools, most of the time as a teacher-librarian. People used to comment about how lucky I was to be able to read all the time. Ha! It was rare to get any reading done beyond reviews, requests from teachers for particular titles, or documents outlining curricular changes (ugh). It was only when school finished at the end of June that I could once again dive into the pages of any book, simply for the pleasure of reading.

Only I found I wasn't able to start right in on what might be called 'adult' books. My regimen would always be to start off on a few Tintins. After that, I'd wean myself from pictures to words, but I'd still stay with what are called (foolishly perhaps) children's books.

Usually, these would be books I'd read before: The Secret Garden, the Narnia books, the lesser-known but wonderful Greene Knowe series by Lucy M. Boston.

The other day I ran across a list of favourite children's books as reported by various 'grown-up' authors. I was familiar with many, though not all of the titles -- but as you can imagine, I've started requesting some of them from my public library. Even though it's still closed, they've worked out a system so we can pick up requested titles when they come in, and for that I am grateful.

So, where it's now July, I'm giving myself permission to go back to some of those kids' books, as I suspect they'll be very good at helping me get back to feeling some of that old summer magic.

Summer bounty

These July days are, I suspect, just about as perfect as anyone's time on earth could be. The other day, reading a book outside, I looked up from the page and thought: If there's a heaven, I hope it's as good as this.

Yes, I still go to the grocery store, though every day we eat something or other from the yard. And so much of it seems to just come up on its own -- golden plums, the berries (though I do prune them almost weekly from March through August) and this year, a trio of peaches.

The salad bar takes a bit more fussing, with much of it needing to dangle in hanging baskets to keep the slugs at bay. Still, fresh greens every night (oh yes, beans too) are hard to beat.

And as for those blackberries, they can be pickety. I'm often competing with bees, who still love visiting all those sweet white
flowers, but at least they seem to leave me alone. A few of them might buzz around my hand or head, but they seem to prefer the flowers to me.

It's the thorns that keep wanting to grab, and are the reason I wear glasses when I pick.

Still, a few nicks don't bother me, especially when I know what dessert will be. Blackberries, fresh off the vine, with even one of the last stragglers from the raspberry canes.

Heaven. Who needs it. Not yet anyway.

Picky picky

Even though summer won't officially arrive until Friday morning's Solstice, today's ritual -- the annual picking of the strawberries -- made me feel like it was already here.

Because they grow so close to the ground, strawberries are the hardest berries to pick. Good thing they're the earliest berry. The picking only gets easier as the season progresses. All that bending or squatting (or, when desperate, kneeling) gets tiresome pretty quickly.

Still, this year's crop might have been the best (and easiest to pick) in years. Big, ripe, and juicy (I'll admit, I tested), they were so plentiful I was able to be quite selective, choosing only the nicest ones, and able to do so quickly.

So, what's next? Plenty of slicing and freezing and making jars of jam -- and of course, eating!

The scents of summer's end

There's something special about the light this time of year -- slanting and more golden than at summer's peak. Along with that light comes the many scents that signal the changing season.

The scent of apples and other fruits ready for harvest (all those juicy prunes, the last of the berries) tells me it's September.

Technically, I guess the tomatoes are actually fruits, even though I still think of them as vegetables and oh my, they have a scent that's all their own (a little bit metallic, strongly 'green' -- so hard to describe).

The other time of year when I'm most attentive to scent are those early mornings in June. There's a freshness in the air that's different from any other time of year (at least in my mind).

Considering these two seasons when my nose tells me so much makes me realize these scents might all be related to school -- the one when school is going back and the other when freedom is imminent.

And this now leads me to wonder where 'an apple for the teacher' got its beginnings. And regardless of that, I'm heading outside to pick some more berries and choose a few of those reddening tomatoes for tonight's salad.

It's a sign

...that summer is well and truly here. No more excuses for using the dryer when I can do this in the backyard.

Solstice arrived at 3:07am -- at least in my time zone, Pacific Daylight Time. This makes it official: summer is well and truly here.

Celebrations vary, depending on your beliefs. Of course, for many, it's just another day.

This year there's at least one group who believes this solstice marks the coming of the Rapture, the return of Christ to take believers up and into the heavens. They've determined this using various numbers -- mostly the number of days since various persons died: the religious leader Billy Graham died (120 days), Stephen Hawking (99 days), even Christopher Hitchens (6 years, 6 months, 6 days).

Despite all their tallying of numbers, I'm not holding my breath. Because, really, who can say what any particular day may bring?

But just in case, I'll be set. And at least I'll have sweet-smelling sheets.

Berry beautiful days

Tuesday was Solstice, so that means ever since that night it's been summer.
As if to help us celebrate, the raspberry canes offered up the first of the year's fruits that day -- two perfectly red raspberries -- ripe and delicious.

Yesterday, the first full day of summer, was also National Aboriginal Day. Again, the berries presented a way to celebrate. We'd gone out to Brae Island Regional Park, a park on the Fraser River that also bounds the lands of the Kwantlen First Nation.It seemed like a great place to celebrate the day and also enjoy the weather. While on our walk there, we found that the salmonberries were ripe, so had to pick a few of those for a snack.

I love the way the berries change colour as they ripen, just the way their namesake does, going from pale orange to a fiercely bright red.

They're a close relative of the cloudberry. In fact, some contend that's just another name for salmonberry. Aboriginal people used to whip the berries into a froth and serve it as a treat -- a kind of 'ice cream'. Name-wise, another close relative of this berry is what they call bake-apple in Newfoundland. Whatever the name, a wild berry fresh off the bush is a treat to be savoured.

As for tomorrow's berries, the morning is time for another round of picking ripe strawberries. And maybe when I get home from the fields, I'll do another round of pruning towards my end-of-summer harvest of the blackberries.

I wondered

...about the name for tonight's moon, the one they're calling the 'strawberry moon'. I like the idea of it being the time for picking berries. Already, the back yard is offering enough raspberries for daily eating and even a few strawberries as treats.

But when I went outside and took a photo of the big solstice moon in the sky, the camera seemed to add its own strawberry garnish around the moon. I never understand these tricks of the light, though I always appreciate them, especially when they arrive on the day of solstice.

This coinciding of a full moon with solstice is apparently quite a rare event, one that won't occur again until 2062. In other words, it's one that most of us will likely never see again.

It officially turned into summer this afternoon, and even the garden seems to be in agreement.

The Way of the Raspberry (and other berries)

Picking raspberries allows one the time to do nothing more than look and move one's hand. Such simple, repetitive motions -- hand to berry, to bucket, to bush again -- allow time for contemplation, almost meditation.

The berries reveal themselves, each in their own way. To the picker, to the sun, to the bumblebee in search of flowers to visit. It's as if they understand the purpose of their existence -- that they were made to be eaten and enjoyed.

The darkest, deepest red of the berries let go of their branches at the slightest touch. Those paler or slightly orange cling tightly and won't allow themselves to be plucked, teaching perhaps that resistance is not, as the Borg would say, futile.

Some lie hidden, gathered in a clutch beneath a canopy of green leaves, as if in wait for the one who will seek them out, perhaps the one who will best appreciate them.

Still others push forward -- higher, higher on the branch -- standing tallest at the top of the spindliest part of the cane, maybe as if to be nearer the sun.

Already, so many berries have gone into my bucket this year. So many of those have in turn gone into bags now filling the freezer. Others have gone into jars of jam that will in turn become gifts at Christmastime.

The strawberries have come and been. Blueberries are next (tomorrow, first pick for me).

But wait a minute, what's that already ripening even though it's still June? Blackberries aren't supposed to ripen until August, are they?

Summer bed, summery dreams

It's official. As of last night, when we passed the mark of Solstice, it's summer.

For us, summer means we set up our tent and sleep in the little clearing in our yard. Home-camping, I suppose. All that fresh air makes for great sleeps and wonderful dreams, even if the birdsong does seem louder in the morning.

Around here, it's felt like summer for weeks -- strawberries have come and been, raspberries are ripe, even the blueberries will be ready soon.

Yesterday was also Canada's National Aboriginal Day. To celebrate, our Sunday dinner was a little out of the ordinary: venison, turkey, wild rice salad, corn and (as just about always), green salad from the garden. Served with plenty of gratitude and family in attendance, it felt like a great way to start the season.

It must be summer...

 ... for me to be so lazy. Already the 11th of the month, and nary a blog post.

And not only have I been staying off the blog, but clearly I've not even been using the car enough, as look at that spider who's decided to build a home on the mirror.

Maybe he (she?) just got sucked in by things appearing closer (and larger?) in the mirror. Tasty bits of tiny bugs must be looking like much bigger feasts.

Even today's drink of choice is one that's lazy. Sun tea, a recipe that makes itself by sitting outside in

the sun for the day. This batch isn't actually tea, it's more like lemonade, but is made from the much more refreshing fruit, quince.

Cheers to summer and to keeping cool!

Seasonal adjustment

Yesterday, the first day of September, meant a trip to one of the final days of this year’s PNE. Sure, we did the usual strolls and walked through the animal barns, marvelled at the farming displays, yawned over the same old blenders and sponge mops in the Marketplace. But mostly, it was a day for wandering among the crowds – plenty of opportunities for people-watching.

Weirdest thing I saw all day was while I was in the per-usual lonnng line-up for the women’s washroom. Some of us were chatting, considering what would happen if a crew of us were to barge into the men’s where, of course, there was NO line-up at all. But then, a guy waltzed in there, carrying a large drink of some sort as well as a huge slice of pizza! None of us could figure out exactly what he planned to do upon entry. Pee with no hands? Or??

It was also crazy to see how many people must ignore the signs (posted at a number of rides) with the warning to secure loose items. Hard to calculate how many dollars must lie in ruins in these bins.

The day ended with a beautiful sunset sky, light cast on the PNE’s grandest feature of all, the old wooden coaster. Happily, the coaster has just been granted special heritage status. If you click on the ‘heritage’ link, you’ll not only see an article about this news, you’ll find a video that offers a sample ride. Wheee!

Not quite on hiatus

Summer sees so many events 'on hiatus' status. Holidays can sometimes provide a similar break.

In a world as full of chaotic events as this summer is seeing -- Cairo, Syria -- and closer to home, trains exploding in Quebec, floods in Alberta and just tonight in Metro Toronto...it feels good to be able to stop and at least look at the flowers.

A little bit of calmness in a raging sea of altogether too much bad news.