An Early Morning in July

Field Notes from a Curious Life

Up for an early morning walk with Henry and then some strength training, you know, as you do when you’re forty-something. Then it’s a slow walk through the garden while I water.

The squash blossoms are open for business, hoping to entice a curious flying insect.

I rub my hands along the mint leaves. Although I’m not really a mint person, I love having it in the garden. Along with my chocolate mint, I added strawberry and Indian mint this year. Scent in the garden is a must.

The new agastache and salvia I planted last week are doing well. It felt a bit irresponsible to plant during a heat wave, but being the impulsive person I am, I did it anyway. I may regret moving my precious willow, it’s looking a bit toasty. But, I had to make room for my new garden beds. Oh well. C’est la vie.

My native beds look beautiful if you pretend not to notice the bitten-off stems of the sedum, black-eyed Susans, and echinacea, courtesy of the resident bunny and deer. I can’t be too upset, I remind myself, since I’m just a steward of the garden. I don’t control it, nor would I want to. The garden is really for them.

After my wander through the garden, I sit outside with a cup of English Breakfast tea. I can smell the lavender. It is glorious, especially on this beautiful summer morning.

The birds fly from branch to branch before stopping for a drink at the pond. This particular morning, what I think is a gray catbird lands on the arbor covered in honeysuckle and calls out what sounds like...

“Eric. Eric. Eric.”

Who the hell is Eric?

I don’t know.

But I do hope he finds him.

I finish my tea and get on with my day.

It’s 7:30 a.m., and time for work.