June 22, 2011


It is now summer. Like it has been for the past month. I thought I would write something meaningful about the summer solstice, but apparently I am lacking in a poetical soul, because the solstice did not make much of an impression on me. Except for giving me the fool notion of going out at 8:30 in the evening to dig up all my spring bulbs and plant 200 some gladiolus bulbs in front of our house. Our house is going to look extremely bizarre in August when all those bulbs come up. But they needed to be planted and it seemed efficient to plant them in the dirt I just dug up to get the spring bulbs out. I don't normally dig up spring bulbs, althought it has always struck me as an extremely organized, and therefore, desirable thing to do. I think my subconcious mind hopes to trick me into being organized by liking organized things, while my concious mind thinks things like "If I dig up spring bulbs, people will think I am organized." Much easier to give an impression than actually accomplish anything.

This spring, I had 50 some tulips popping up. Only 5 bloomed. I had drafted several stern letters to Brecks about the quality of their bulbs in my mind when Connie told me that tulips won't bloom if planted too deeply. And that stirred a memory of me planting the tulips at depths sufficent to survive any imminent ice ages. So I had to dig them all up so that I could replant them in the fall at a normal depth. Some of the poor things were about a foot underground, so I can understand them refusing to bloom until they are treated better. Probably the tulip unions fault.

I managed to dig up all the bulbs and shove the glads into the dirt within an hour. The glads might protest and probably their union will suggest not blooming either. Especially since they were supposed to be planted about 3-4 weeks ago. Still, it makes me feel like I am accomplishing something.

I came in around 9:30 absolutely polka-dotted with mosquito bites. By some fabulous luck, the bites aren't bothering me this year, beyond a slightly burn-y sensation. Since they weren't scratchy, they just made me feel inordinately pleased with myselff. I had to admire them and point them out to Justin who was not as impressed as I was. I felt like I was supernatural or something. Impervious to mosquitos should be a superhero power. And yes, I have to pronounce that in my head as moss-quee-toes so I spell it right.

And that is about as much of an impression the summer solstice made on me. Beyond an email from The Company Store that announced their Summer solstoce sale. Apparently they don't have spell checker.

And now, here are some completely unrelated pictures that happened to be taken yesterday.

Scratch that thought. Blogger doesn't like my pictures and won't load them.


Evan and Clover and Co. said...

I haven't subjected myself to a LOT of bites to test this theory, but I think I react way less to bites than I used to. And I celebrated the summer solstice by actually turning off my light at 10:00 p.m.!!

Verity Earl said...

I celebrated the solstice by recognizing that it's the solstice. Nina wasn't here to have an awesome pagan bonfire with me. Booooooo!

Virginia said...

Yeah, solstices are no bueno w/o a pagan bonfire. Ver, we can celebrate the solstice in a couple weeks, say on the 4th of July? I in no way celebrated it, either, unless a trip to the local Mexican food place and Wal-Mart constitutes some sort of summer ritual. Bet, I'm seriously impressed w/ your mad gardening skills. Better late than never, that's what I always say!