In Which We Spend a Quiet Caturday at Home

Random musings on the second day of summer . . .

These are the longest days of the year. According to a chart that I obtained from the Sunrise Sunset Calendar Web site, from June 17 through June 25, the daylight in my area is now 15 hours and 6 minutes each day (as opposed to the shortest days of the year, which will be December 17 through 27, when there will be a mere 9 hours and 15 minutes of daylight). These are facts I like to know.

An amazing full moon is expected for Sunday night, another of those "super moons" they talk about, when the moon is close to the Earth. I am hoping for clear skies so I can watch it with my camera.

On this day, for once, we stayed home. Which is to say we didn't drive anywhere, though we did go for a quick scoot of a bike ride around the neighborhood. The temperatures had been lovely for a few days, but it's started to get really uncomfortably hot. We're moving into the part of summer that is most challenging for those of us who prefer things cool. Hot and humid: days when we try to get our yard tasks done before noon; days of sweaty hands on the camera.

The robin's nest by our bedroom window is empty now. The little birds flew the coop on Friday while I was at work. When I came home, the nest was strangely silent: empty. I had the opportunity to spend much of Wednesday working near the window overlooking their nest, so at least we got some quality time together before they went. There is a small cement walkway near the area where the nest was, and on Wednesday evening - anticipating the pending tiny-bird-fall - I spread some leaves over the walkway to make a soft, safe landing area for them. Now the little ones are gone, and I miss them already, more than I would have imagined. *sigh* A bit of empty nest syndrome, I think.

The yard is lush and green, and we spent part of this day doing some much-needed trimming and weeding. The nest in the big lilac bush by my butterfly garden is also finished, so we were able to trim that area too. I eyed up the front flower beds and some weeds around the shed: work to save for the next day. But do it early, as it will be quite hot.

My husband and I did what we sometimes do when we finally get a day at home: we cooked a beautiful meal together. Baked chicken and mashed potatoes and homemade stuffing (not as good as my mother's, but pretty decent) and gravy and broccoli with butter and bacon and cheese. And I did dishes. Lots of them.

I am making two more little photo books, and I have about two weeks to do it, before the coupons I bought expire. So I must make them soon. And I want to, but it's hard to find a few hours of time to sit down and sort through all of my pictures! I'm starting a new series of four books: The Seasons of Central Pennsylvania, and the first two are (of course) Winter and Spring. While I used Shutterfly for the three little books I've made so far, these coupons are for Picaboo, a company I haven't worked with before. So we'll see how it goes. It is most convenient for me to do this sort of task - sorting and tagging and editing pictures - while sitting in my chair at the kitchen table, where I often work at my computer. But as you can see, my chair has been taken over by Dexter the Tabby, who has high-priority feline activities (such as intensive Caturday napping) planned for this day.

Near the close of the day, I spent an hour of quiet time in the backyard near Gremlin's Meadow, watching the hummingbird feeder, but not seeing any little birds. They've been pretty scarce this year, but the monarda will be coming into bloom soon, and I think then it will be hard for the tiny birds to stay away.

And on this day in particular, I look back and honor the memory of Gremlin, the big orange tabby who helped look after me during the years of my young adulthood. It was nine years ago on this day - the second day of summer - that he left us. I still remember the feeling of his weight in my arms; his fierce-hearted love for me. And so this day's end finds me standing by his grave at the edge of the meadow, whispering quiet assurances as the light leaves us on this, one of the longest days of the year: Gremlin, I will wait for you. If I should fall behind, wait for me . . .

The song: Bruce Springsteen and the E Street gang: If I Should Fall Behind.