June Notes

June is drawing to an end. Let me make a few notes before it slips away entirely:

• With the exception of a few hot days, June has been unusually and wonderfully mild this year. The day lingers in the low 80s, then drops into the 50s at night. That is about as close to ideal summer weather as it gets in central Ohio. 
• We have an abundance of fireflies. Perhaps it is the wet spring we had. Perhaps it is the cool weather. Whatever the reasons, the nightly displays in the backyard are staggering.
• The rudbeckia at the end of the deck is starting to bud. Once the flowers open, our backyard becomes Bee Central to such an extent that you can sit on the deck and hear the hum.
• My 2011 garden is going great guns, despite its pathetic start. It is as impressive as it is because of the kindness of my friends Kermit and Donna, who shared with open hands and hearts their starter plants. The tomatoes are flowering. The beans are up. We have been eating fresh zucchini for weeks. (Yes, I know, there's the weeding to do.)
• Walking downtown yesterday, I passed a hopscotch pattern chalked on the sidewalk. No rock on it, or I might have been tempted to go a round or two.
• The hopscotch game was  in front of the house which has a rocking horse on the porch. The horse's body is white, its mane and tail are fuchsia and "real" (not molded), and it appears to have lavender eye shadow and gold glitter around its eyes. Trust me, we are not talking about a plain old circus pony. We are talking about a just-jumped-off-a-merry-go-round prancer. It's the rocking horse I would have wanted as a kid.
• Last night, the Symphony rehearsed for its holiday concerts. I arrived after it was underway, walking through the campus after stopping first at the library. The windows to the performance hall were open and "Phantom of the Opera" spilled out into the warm summer evening. I stood outside for an extra long moment letting the music wash over me. 

For the next few days, our lives will whirl around holiday concerts at three different locations: one tomorrow night in Mansfield, one Saturday in Put-In-Bay up on Lake Erie, and the final one the night of the Fourth here in Delaware. Late Sunday afternoon, in the midst of the hoopla, Sam arrives home for a summer stay. I have not seen him since I said goodbye in Montana last August and I am eager to see my boy once again.

Not all fireworks burst over our heads in the night sky. Some explode right in our hearts.