Hawthorne season


I started last weekend with plans for a long run, collecting hawthorne and wild roses in blossom, and many hours of garden time. Saturday morning I ran and went on a hawthorne mission and was sorting out my afternoon garden priorities over some lunch when it started raining. I was somewhere between confused and indignant. It had not occurred to me that rain was a possibility.

I surveyed the sky and guessed it would be half an hour until it was done and I could carry on. Instead it rained most of the weekend, and I never did make it down to the garden. After a bit of time wandering around the house lost, I did recover and remember that there was a nearly-forgotten list of things I had been meaning to do indoors. I turned over my closet for the season, tackled some mending, blended tea, sewed myself a new shirt, and started my cucurbit seeds, all the while musing at how llloong the weekend felt, how time seemed to expand as space contracted.

Monday morning I found myself standing at the top of the driveway, overdressed in a long-sleeve quarter-zip despite the overcast morning. I had just finished my short morning run and before I went in for breakfast, I was enjoying a few ripe salmonberries. And right then, it hit me: it’s not spring anymore. Somehow, the season slipped right into early summer, when the rain is out of place and the berries are coming on and it’s time to swap out the winter woollies for summer skirts. I’ve been checking in all week… it’s not quite dark when I go to bed at night but there’s no sign of dark when I wake. We had our first picnic on the bluff overlooking the bay. Sure enough, all signs point to summer.

Of course, I have mixed feelings about this – it means both that I survived the frenzy of spring and that there are rather a lot of things on the spring task list that I failed to complete. But then I remember that maybe it will be easier to tell which of those things were never necessary in the first place from the perspective of summer. And of course it really doesn’t matter how I feel about it, but I think I’m ready to embrace some long days of the light.