Summer in New England is short and temperamental. The warm weather comes and goes in a flash, the sun visits and then retreats. It’s fickle and gorgeous and a season to appreciate but not to count on.
Because we were away for two weeks, and then recovering for another week or so, I missed the narrow window of opportunity for planting out my garden. It’s too late for my sweet pea and nasturtium seeds, although I did manage to throw some radish and lettuce seeds in the ground before we left. And because we are getting the house painted this summer — and the vegetable garden is right next to it — and because we spend most of these warm months bopping about, making the most of the sunshine — I’ve decided not to do anything else. This will be the first time since I’ve owned my own house that I won’t have at least a pot or two of tomatoes.
I’ll miss it, miss the intoxicating scent of home-grown basil, the fun of making my own salsa from scratch with ingredients I’ve not only chosen but grown. But I’ve decided to focus on what I have this summer, on the unexpected delight and abundance that can occur when you cede control. We never pruned the roses this year, we’re letting the mint grow rampant (I know, I know — we won’t be able to find the house) and the wisteria and clematis received only the most cursory haircut. The lavender is so full and lush it has fallen over, and I can’t decide whether to cut and dry it or simply enjoy it the way it looks today. It’s a jungle, but a beautiful one.
Wherever and however you spend your summer, I hope it is a beautiful one, filled with unexpected pleasures and delights.