In these long July evenings, the children stay up late around the firepit, roasting ridiculously large marshmallows, burning the sugary outsides while the innards remain in their bizarre, uncooked marshmallow state. As the dew descends, I gather swimsuits, a sandal beside the trampoline, a library book.
Early mornings, the light already risen like an energetic lover, I wake and think, It’s still July.
This season, too, will pass. Snow will fall densely, the moon rise over the pristinely ice-shrouded field; our eyes will blink against frost.
All that is exquisitely lovely.
But it’s July now…. and we’re Julying.
…In his torn voice Crow is forever
giving advice. Last week, after fighting
with you, Crow counseled me, said to pick
a cup of raspberries, to lay them in a circle
atop your bowl of cereal.
Todd Davis, from “Crow Counsels Me in the Ways of Love” in In the Kingdom of the Ditch
Stony Soil Vermont 