The talk about the rain is becoming a downpour among us.
Since the beginning of July, and especially over the July 4 weekend and well into the second week of the month, the rain has been consistent – that is – consistently soaking us from day to day without end.
If this keeps up, meteorologists expect July to be the wettest month on record since 1921.
Massachusetts reservoirs are filled to the top.
Local flooding has become a daily occurrence.
The rain added to our totals by the remnants of the tropical storm that soaked us last week has added to rain misery now afflicting the region.
Canceled fireworks, outside parties, barbecues, and beach and boating excursions over the Fourth of July put a real damper on the summer, which has been either incredibly hot and humid and uncomfortable or frankly, pissing rain from day to day without end.
July 4 has come and gone, and with it, that moment during the short New England summer when we are in the thick of it, and loving it, and feeling for a brief mind-less instant, that the warmth will last for a long, long time.
It is the dead of summer, that short snap of the finger or swim in the ocean at the beach or a pool when we
New Englanders have as much summer in front of us as behind us.
The romance and good feelings during this time of the year are abundant.
We are carefree. We wear short sleeves and shorts, summer dresses and bathing suits, sandals, and thongs, smiles… all brought on by the warmth.
It is a time of stasis – a sweet passing moment of equilibrium.
Many of us wish this moment would not pass, that the summer might be at this point for months and months.
Nature indulges in no such fantasies.
The past four days of rain cut the searing heat of the week before; climate change type heat that seemed unbearable.
I grew up in a household where we had lovely grounds and more than a handful of exotic flowers and shrubs and mature trees.
My mother liked watching the flowers she planted come to bloom.
My father had an interest in everything about our grounds looking just right, especially the grass, but he never planted anything in a lifetime, and he lived to be 91.
It is said the apples don’t fall far from the tree.
In my lifetime I have never planted anything, not a seed, not a flower, nothing…until last month.
With the aid of my lawyer son, who is cultivating several acres of land in Greenfield where he is practicing law, a small garden was planted in my backyard.
I built the wooden framework, which frankly was idiot’s work, proving I was thoroughly qualified to build it!
My son used the rich soil from my backyard to carve out a garden plot about 200 square feet.
He used a variety of tools, something like a pick axe to break up the soil, his hands to shake the soil free of growth, a shovel to place the soil in the box and then his hands again to do the plantings.