Summertime, and the livin’ is……….
HOT
Hot and windy as we enter the 3rd week in July.
The track to my home is parched and dusty. Lining the way are dry stalk memories of our prolonged spring display, now bashed about in the fierce gusts. Even the Oleanders, that have brightened roadsides and mountain slopes since warmer weather defeated the less sturdy varieties, are rapidly fading, giving up in their annual aspirations to keep the colour alive. Pears, on the tree at the top of the road, are thrown from their anchor well before they have a chance to ripen, but I hope to find a few that reach maturity. It’s a new dream, a simple one – to pick a pear that I’ve watched develop from blossom to fruit.
Occasionally I can grow a strawberry in the garden, much to my delight, but a single solitary strawberry will never require of me to buy a pot of cream. Yet I’m, admittedly overly, delighted when I have that miniscule harvest to gather, compensation no doubt for another harvest I’d anticipated, one of bountiful apricots, a shattered dream alas.
That was around the time when I developed a not yet well recognized condition known (to me at least) as Apricot Envy. It took over in a manner I just cannot explain, but it did. I adored my apricot tree, observed her daily as she shifted from glorious blossom into deeply camouflaged green nuggets before the gradual shifting to the sumptuous, ripening, apricot colour of apricots. I scoffed at my nearest neighbours’ scrawny apology of a tree with underside fruits, and felt that swell of pride every time I passed the poor thing, thinking of my beauty in the garden, resplendent with promise. All was going well up until that point, right up until I walked past a tree that I’d never paid any attention to previously, the shock was immense. This one was taller, richer looking and worse, much worse, the fruits were bigger than mine.
With immense effort and strictest discipline I did all I could to remove thoughts of envy and chose instead to lavish increasing amounts of adoration on my own tree. It worked to a degree. I changed route, avoided passing the source of my angst and planned for the jam making, apricot scoffing and excitement of harvest gathering. So much for plans. The wind came and many unripe casualties littered the ground, ants took up residence everywhere but I was still hopeful and did eat one early-ripe beautifully sweet, warm, delicious apricot. A few others I gathered were ridden with insects. But hope remained. I calculated the day at which the ladder would be placed against the trunk, prayed that ants and nameless bugs suffer vertigo; that everything on the higher branches would be for me.
Harvest day arrived. I’d been busy and hadn’t paid much attention for several days……. I went outside, the tree was bare, only about 2 (!!!) clearly insect affected bruised apricots left. Did they dematerialize? Had they been devoured by insects? Did someone else (a victim of Apricot Envy??) pass by in my absence and relieve me of my dream?? I’ll never know. But for sure, between now and next year I will be researching and learning more of what a fruit farmer needs to know, because clearly I failed somewhere along the way.
Summertime, and the livin’ could be easier.
Insects are biting and the itching is severe.
Cats are jumping and the idiocy is clear…..
Most of my pocket money at this time goes on the purchase of insect repellant and the accompanying itch relieving cream. I wonder why I bother sometimes. The result seems to be the same regardless of what I spray or rub on, or what candles and oils I burn, and no amount of cussing will prevent or offer relief. Hours have been spent fitting nets on windows and doors, still the blighters get in. In a desperate attempt (actually several attempts atop the wobbly step ladder) I fitted up a mozzy net around the bed. The sense of claustrophobia that first night almost had me ripping the thing down, in addition the bedside fan blew the net against skin, resulting in restless nights thinking that larger than usual insects were invading. Jeez. I adjusted and made friends with the net nest. Adjustment to circumstances is necessary to survival, apparently.
An easy, hot, windy summer morning, resting in bed, coffee by my side and the cats come to visit….how cute could that be? Girl cat soon trapped herself at the top of the wardrobe, ignored the obviously easy route back down, leapt to the furthest point and slid ungainly across the dresser sending my glass bottle of perfume to smash on the floor. Girl cat exits the house, mission clearly accomplished.
Big Ginger tom, no doubt affected by the aroma, decides to attack the mozzie net as if tackling the fiercest rodent in history. Ginger Beast is no ordinary cat and any attempt at intervention could result in further injuries …… I’m still recovering from his recent attack, unprovoked I may add.
Mozzie net will soon be destroyed.
Summertime, and the cats have gone crazy.
What to do?
Surrender, sit back, drink coffee, listen to the screeching cicadas.
And remember….
……Summertime, and the livin’ is amazing!………
…winds do abate, calm seas return and luxurious swims are possible again…….. Life sure ain’t bad after all….there’s no need to be blue in this place of blue sky, shimmering blue sea, blue doors and shutters ……