Summer is here

It is hard to believe that though winter has gone, summer is here.

Whatever happened to spring?

It done gone went and left in a hurry, so it did. This past week we have had exceptionally nice weather, allowing us to get the lawn mown for the second time and the garden all planted. The day that the cabbage, tomatoes, and peppers were transplanted it remained overcast all day. What a great time of year to be outside. But now we need rain.

And rain came. On the morning this article was written, rain came down in a steady drizzle. What a blessing! It soaked into the ground just as fast as it fell. Our planted corn has popped through the ground sufficient enough to be able to see down the rows. If one looks close where the potatoes are planted, one can see the odd tip bursting through the ground.

Though looking wilted late in the day when we conducted our usual Gator tour, the newly transplanted cabbage, kale, brussels sprouts, tomatoes and peppers are now standing tall and erect. I know without looking that the rows of peas, beans and carrots will be showing their noses before the day is out. On checking the pasture animals while on tour, the litter of small porkers were romping back and forth chasing each other, while the large older hogs trotted over just to snort “hi” and to see if they could get their back scratched or beg an additional treat.

On checking the pasture, where the goats nibble the grasses, not a single goat was in sight. They were all in their nighttime paddock lounging around the huge rock pile while the young ones romped and played king of the castle on the uppermost rock. Fun and games is their only thought.

When we circled the pond, a mother killdeer went into her broken wing act, and as we slowed to look closer, her clutch of young scampered ahead of us. Their tiny feet moving so fast that it appeared as though they were on wheels. They soon disappeared in the grasses beside the path.

A couple of nights previous on joining the grandkids with their campfire back at the pond, it seemed like a million fireflies appeared almost immediately when darkness fell.

I assured the kids that they were just mosquitoes with flashlights looking for them. It was one of Mother Nature’s beautiful sights not seen by urban dwellers. Back at the barn, a tree frog bubbled his song from the single maple that he seems to have resided in for the last three years, and a pair of speckled-breasted young robins hopped across the lawn seemingly unaware of Foxy, our huge watchdog, who was lying there wagging her tail just doing that – watching. She is trained to leave small birds alone.

Now, I am going to plunk my butt in a comfortable chair and watch the sun go down in a rash of colour crossing the western sky.

Take care, ’cause we care.




Barrie Hopkins