Summer idyll

Today was a glorious day. Adonis and I went strawberry-picking in the morning (it's late for strawberries, but a cool spring meant they stuck around a bit longer this year). Then we took Lugh for a hike through the woods into a gorge, where we took off our clothes and floated down the creek a bit. Lugh is tentatively becoming a swimmer, and today he swam more, and more willingly, than he has up until now. After our swim we stopped at the farmers' market for lunch and a bit of shopping. I finally got some herbs to plant in pots on my porch; I've been longing for them. I took a long afternoon nap, and this evening we drove out into the countryside to have dinner at friends'. We had grilled buffalo, salad, rum cake, and strawberries. The night was cool, and we sat outside surrounded by herbs, twinkling lights, and the four dogs, watching the nearly-full moon rise. It was the sort of day that reminds us why we love living here.

Kim Antieau has written a fine piece today on the joys of small-town living. I share her pleasure, though our towns are thousands of miles apart. I also share her need to be naked as often as possible in the summer (especially outside and in the water!). I was telling our host tonight that we're having the hardest time deciding whether to buy a house in town (where we now rent) or in the country; both have their charms. He replied that he could never live in a place where he couldn't go outside at 3 a.m., naked, to play his saxaphone, fire a shotgun, and smoke pot. My needs aren't quite so vast, but I appreciate his point.

I bought lavender and calendula to plant tomorrow. I've been craving calendula. It looks like the sun, but its effect is soothing, cooling. It makes a wonderful rinse or salve. Sonja and I are talking about our fiery, pitta natures over at her place. Lady calendula, it seems to be, lures someone like me with her bright, sunny face, but then offers a gentle coolness to balance my fire.