Bedtime Story

You know it’s summer when the variegated pansies that have colored your doorstep all winter start to droop and bright petunias move in next to them. The purple odor of a full-blown petunia spritzes away musty odors as the last leaves of autumn are swept from crevices in porches ready for chairs and visitors.

You know it’s summer when a house finch flies by every few minutes with something in its mouth, and you wonder what tiny threads and bits of hair you have deliberately swept from the house into the yard will end up in the nests they think they are hiding from you in the eaves of the house.

You know it’s summer when your cat doesn’t want to come in at night, and when it drags itself in after an evening in the woods it sleeps for twelve hours straight.

You know it’s summer when you have to lock the dog in so it won’t run out the cat door and chase raccoons that come to forage on your porch. When the pale possum tiptoes by later to eat the remains of some overripe, store-bought berries you have set out for the critters, you listen for the sound of your dog’s breathing.

You know it’s summer when the bats return, and you spend a modest portion of each day sweeping up after them, wondering if they are earning their keep by eating enough insects to warrant a broom with their name on it.

You know it’s summer when your neighbor’s grass looks a little greener and you start to compare notes. You may not be too fond of the spongy patches where moles have constructed lacy networks to travel through easily, and to elude your cat, but you always breathe a sigh of relief when the cat drops a mole at your feet and it’s still alive, ready to be rescued so it can hurry back home.

You know it’s summer when the tomatoes in your garden start bearing fruit, and the basil planted in every other spare pot is starting to sprout. Competing with the jeweled colors of the nasturtium planted in all the rest of the pots, the basil promises to catch up in time to orchestrate its flavors with the succulence of the tomatoes.

You know it’s summer when poison ivy eyes you, your toes, and every inch of skin no longer covered by practical winter clothing. The elements threaten to make you itch as much as the bee balm peeking up next to the healthiest patch of poison ivy promises to bring hummingbirds and months of smiles.

You know it’s summer when the box turtles crawl out of their hiding places and crawl through the yard on their way to somewhere else close by.

You know it’s summer when you take one look at your daylilies and wonder when you will separate them again or if you can convince your friends and neighbors to come mine your yard for perennials so you won’t have to hazard poison ivy or too much hard work in the midst of your lazy summer.

You know it’s summer when the butterfly bush that is taller than any lilac in the yard is sprouting green leaves and purple buds that will attract butterflies from miles around. Across the yard, a yellow butterfly bush is growing up, not as hardy and not as lush, but just as intent on asserting its rights.

You know it’s summer when your faith in a reluctant fig tree returns tenfold and you know, just know, that it will bear brown fruit this year.

Felicia Mitchell. First published in Washington County News (Abingdon, VA), 7 June 2006, p. A4. WCN is a publication of Media General Operations. Copyright 2006.