If I have a muse for editorials, it’s Verlynn Klinkenborg, who muses on rural life and family for the New York Times editorial page. It’s not that I aspire to be a journalist or reporter. It’s more that, after reading about social and political ills addressed by the Times, reading about mud season, grandparents, dogs and birds is relaxing.
These long days as we near the summer solstice make me wish the earth stayed at this angle all year. The wobble brings crisp fall mornings and soft spring evenings, but man, I love having sunlight from 5 am to 10 pm. I can watch plants grow between morning and evening; I can listen to the wren try to entice a lady wren to his nest; I can read a book on the swing, think profound thoughts, and relish my momentary inaction.
Winter’s a different season. Some years I’ve laughed in the snowfall, but far too often I regret the cold, the clouds, the way I feel cabin-bound. So, while it’s summer, I long to have unprogrammed days. Today, for instance, I’ll continue the work of removing grass and get all the ground cover plants in before the end of the day. Maybe.
There are no profound truths in my garden. I plant things as a diversion, I let them grow because it’s their nature.