Summery vegetables are my main idea of the joys found in this green, growing season. These came from Amish country on Saturday, my first trip of Summer 2015. Happy Summer solstice, by the way! I'm sure I saw the midnight faeries last night flying frantically back and forth on the lightning bolts that pummeled our farm. The Fire faeries like to be called ellylldan, or will 'o the wisp. I like to call them what they choose!
Quiet Father's Day here since we are not fathers, and my son is not a dad either. It's always a pleasure to think on my daddy and his calm, steady joy apparent in the way he lived his days on earth. I think my son is a lot like my dad. They both find extra joy in their careers, but their hearts belong to their family and friends. Sometimes I imagine myself bout ten years ago sitting in a little porch chair and watching neighbors and farm renters put up daddy's hay. He sat there with me smiling, thoughts lost in the joy of recalling his haying days. July was Daddy's month. His birthday fell July 11th, and he always took as many vacation weeks as he could to put up the Timothy hay in small bales. I often drove the tractor pulling a heavy wooden sled or the old '47 Chevy pickup in "granny low." Daddy slipped on his gloves, grabbed his hay hooks and threw the bales up, up, up to the skies it seemed. There is something magical about a dad who seems to be able to do anything there was on earth. Electronics, plumbing. Woodworking, farming, making the candy-dark green 21-day sweet pickles... Mostly smiling, ever seeking to be of help, coming to my rescue too many times to count. Standing out bare-headed with his face to the sky, watching the tumult of approaching storms. I do indeed, Sweet Daddy, love you to the moon and back.