At a certain point around the Solstice, generally just prior to, the entire backyard is redolent with rose- it’s all rose- no wonder humanity loves this time of year, utilising it to marry, to celebrate young scholars, to linger in gardens long into the evening. The mornings are wonderful to walk out into with that fragrance everywhere- outdoors is magnificent now- Lady’s slippers in yellow and pink line pine-needle-blanketed wooded areas, waiting and available for the foot of the spring maiden. Ours is the yellow one in the painting being used for the home page image right now, which will be the illustration for an introductory piece about the garden I’m writing. Yet again inspired to make the outdoors our living room, we’re putting up yet another tented gazebo, the latest of many- they don’t last but somehow the idea of being able to live mostly outside is too beguiling- waking up to the fish pond fountain splashing, birdsong everywhere and those roses with their scent- or that of whatever we’re being treated to at whatever little sliver of summer we’re at. And yet again we’ll buy more faery lights- Christmas strings in silk pods and butterflies- they also don’t last long- and drag out camp beds and set up outdoor reading lights- all to feel we’re the personal guests of the Queen of flowers. It’s taking a heck of a long time to get it all set up, though.

The Solstice full moon in a day or two. Summer starts- the year peaks.
Bird song of the day- re re re re re v la ^ do