Here’s the story of June: I walk behind the barn this morning and the tree branches grab for me. Just the day before, mere branches with fresh leaves — this morning, fierce growth.
May is delicate, fragrant. By July, Vermont’s wildness will be tempestuous, crazy with green. By August, we’ll be picking blackberries surrounded by wild apples, a profusion of fruit on vine and branch.
This year, I’m determined savor the summer, come what may — brutal humidity, a woodchuck with an appetite, or, what’s far more likely, what I haven’t imagined.
Nonetheless….. that’s my mantra. Snow will return, soon enough.
You got to understand: here
Winter stays six months a year—
Mean, mean winters and too long.
Ninety days is what we get, just
Ninety days of frost free weather….
— David Budbill