Not surrendering to July without a fight
It was very late, and I was very tired, but I would not surrender the evening.
It was past 10:30 p.m. on what was the eve-eve of June 21, summer solstice day, when Better Half poked his head out the back door.
“You’re still up??!!” came his incredulous half question, half observation of the wife he knows to be hard pressed to keep her eyes open past 9 o’clock.
“Yes, dear,” I confirmed the modern miracle, shocking him further with the announcement that I had no immediate plans to head indoors and call it a night.
After all, I was doing important work there on the back porch, just sitting there with “Herald” the Cat on my lap, who was purr-fectly happy to have some evening company.
I was on guard duty, keeping watch over June, a month I don’t like to see escape much less surrender to July.
It had been a banner day, and I was appreciating this June summer solstice eve-eve big time.
It had been a good day at work, beginning with the commute to the newspaper that had included a spectacular sunrise that all the art galleries in all the world couldn’t begin to compete with or be any more amazing and awe-inspiring than what I had seen as I motored along state Route 43.
And it had been a good day at home where dinner constituted a feast cooked on the grill, followed up with some time talking horse talk with Thunder and Tucker, telling them how beautiful and precious they are. Yes, I confess. I really do say that to them. And I throw in a horse hug or two for good measure.
The June days providing extended hours of daylight make an evening run all the more special, a time to enjoy my surroundings and the fact that I can still get out there and do that.
June. That’s my month.
I parked myself later on the back porch, my to-do list abandoned, my priorities focused exclusively on flower fascination.
My orange Asiatic lilies are absolutely gorgeous. Ditto for purple pansies and gold gazanias and all the rest.
I drank in the sight of it all, a cold beer or two, too, truth be told.
And then I marveled at two light shows, the first one not a guarantee but these lightning bugs were out in full force.
The second light show is anticipated — what Better Half refers to as the “Kiaski Carnival,” all my solar lights.
I finally did call it a day, albeit reluctantly.
But I’ll be back on guard duty, savoring June.
(Kiaski, a resident of Richmond, is a staff columnist and community editor for the Herald-Star and The Weirton Daily Times. She can be contacted at firstname.lastname@example.org.)