Tomorrow is the 4th of July, the summeriest summer day of all I suppose, and I'm on the back porch as always and it's not too hot because it almost rained and the thunder has been rolling through the celestial bowling alley for hours now. The crickets are singing the most primal and beautiful of music, the sound of their voices (or is their legs?) rising and falling and I think of how the cicadas sound on the islands, both St. George and Dog in the summer. They start in one part of the island and the music spreads, section by section until the entire air is filled with it, so loud the human ear can barely stand it, the human heart the same. They sing the sun down, the moon up, they may as well be telling the story of the earth and the seas, our planet from the moment of its inception to the salty soup from which we come to the creation of mountains and of the Great Trees, the tiny frogs and immense winged birds, the mind of humans, who imitated lightening and created fire, who imitated the cicadas and created drums and raised their forming voices to chant into the sky above the sparking flames which rose as if to touch the stars.
And how do YOU think of the 4th of July?
Ah well. We do have watermelon. That's 4th-y, right? Last night Mr. Moon brought home a watermelon that was bigger than...well, let's see. I've compared a squash to King Kong's dick and this was twenty times that size. Godzilla's dick? The Goodyear Blimp? Whatever, you get the picture. The butcher block counter barely held it and I doubt I could have carried it. He cut up half of it and put it in chunks in a Tupperware in the refrigerator and took the rest to the refrigerator out in the garage. I have a feeling that even the chickens will be celebrating this weekend with watermelon.
The boys are coming tomorrow and we should have fun with them. We have nothing special planned and they won't know the difference. Their parents can take them tomorrow night to see fireworks if they want. We will eat watermelon here in Lloyd.
I spent today doing the little things- the walk, washing sheets, tidying up, and then I attempted death by weeding in July but I did not die and I fed the goats next door some of the giant grasses I pulled up and I felt strong out in the sun, sweating pouring off my body, my arms tensed as I wrenched the roots from the ground.
And then I took a shower and had a nap and the thunder woke me up.
This is summer. Heat and growth and crickets and cicadas and watermelons and naps and fireworks if you want them. Salads with tomatoes and avocados and sweet Vidalia onions. The Beauty Berries are blooming, the bees are upon them, I saw my first blooming clitoria of the season today.
Pictures to follow.
Go clean the grill, go ice the beer, go dig out the ice-cream freezer, eat a peach, listen to the crickets, find an icy spring or a river or a lake or an ocean to jump into or maybe just fill up the kiddy pool.
It is summer, it is green, it is red, white, and blue if that is what you want.
Watch the fireworks or just the stars. Either way, raise your eyes upward.
Sleep to the lullaby of the spheres, the sound of the ocean rushing in your body as your heart beats the rhythm of the universe in summer.
And the rain now gently falls.