There were signs everywhere. Things reminiscent of the days between school's beginning and end. The days where we were allowed to run at large as children exploring. Discovering what the world was made of. Not necessarily understanding everything, including ourselves and our relationships. These summers free from the indoors were as important, if not more important, than any classroom studies.
Dirt devils. Before the vacuum we saw dusty tornadoes in fields and along the gravel roads on which we learned to ride our bikes. The weather ran hot and cold and could change in a moment's notice so one had to be always aware of the sky. Big and blue and filled with wonderful clouds, a friend of mine deduced that storms began in the Badlands. And if you heard every evening on the news the potential for thunder coming from the west, he's probably right.
I love the storms, I do not however appreciate the fact that my beautiful community garden plow has been destroyed by hail this week. The squash leaves are completely gone exposing the now blemished fruit. Big, small, green, orange and pale white, the squash in varying stages naked on the straw mulch.
My garden north of town escaped without a single incident and I'm grateful for that, but really disappointed that I will not be harvesting those Black Krim tomatoes in bushel baskets. (I tasted a nearly ripe one and they are AWESOME. Put them on the list for January's seed order.)
While we may not have been outdoors at the crack of dawn as children, I have rarely missed a sunrise and those of late have been spectacular. Between the cold and hot air, the river temperature and the rolling green valley, the sun has been masked behind moisture for its first hour. Whether clouds or mist, the color has been red - red - red filtered.
It will be another very hot day today, and maybe more storms, so I must go now and gaze upon my garden and enjoy its beauty and bounty - for who knows.... in a heartbeat, it may be gone.
