Summer is officially here on the Cutoff. Most days are warm and humid, with a few brilliant, perfect days scattered in between, and just as many thunderous days and nights with rain. The peonies are finished, but . . . the roses and clematis have been having a grand time, holding court for days on end, and buds are forming on the Echinacea and daisies. Why, just today the bee balm joined the chorus. Yes, my friends, it is summer on the Cutoff, with a poem that showed up in my inbox this morning and seemed to be written just for us!
As if he were half-way waiting,
The rosebuds peep from their hoods of green,
Timid and hesitating.
The rain comes down in a torrent sweep
And the nights smell warm and piney,
The garden thrives, but the tender shoots
Are yellow-green and tiny.
Then a flash of sun on a waiting hill,
Streams laugh that erst were quiet,
The sky smiles down with a dazzling blue
And the woods run mad with riot.
Summer in the South by Paul Laurence Dunbar