Reflections on the Second Week of Summer – Blue and Green

#5 Blue and Green Framing

“What are you doing about your blog this week?” My son Charlie stacked the playing cards after our second game of cribbage on the porch Friday morning.

I dropped the pegs into the cribbage case. “I don’t know. I only have a lame idea.”

He stuck the cards in the case. “Well, what are you planning for the weekend?”

Turning my head, I gazed over the north garden to the blue, blue sky and the green, green landscape. “Nothing―except writing my blog.”

He chuckled. “You’ve got to have a better plan than that.”

Leaning back in the wicker chair, I inhaled the intense perfume of milkweed flowers in the field and listened to the phoebe lead the rollicking bird chorus. “Summer’s here. Because the sky’s so blue and the landscape’s so green, I want to be outside. I challenged myself to do ten activities outside this week Ten different activities. Weeding ten times wouldn’t celebrate summer.”

“Yeaaaaaaah.” Charlie waved his hand in a circle. “What have you done so far?”

#1 Yoga

Holding one hand palm up, I touched the thumb with the index finger of the other hand. “I did yoga on the deck twice, but that only counts once.

#2 Read

I read on the love seat during a thunderstorm, stencil bleached

#3 Stencil Bleach

butterflies for a patchwork purse, and coaxed you out onto the porch to play cribbage.” I scrunched my forehead. “That’s only four. And a list doesn’t make a story.”

#4 Cribbage

His eyes sparkled. “There’s your arc. You get frustrated, think you’re going to fail, then force yourself to make it work. Start with me asking what you’re doing for your blog and you not having any idea.” He shifted on the love seat. “Count our talk about framing the story out here on the porch as number five.”

He had the frustration and failure right. “What about humor? I like to sprinkle humor in the blog.”

He grinned. “Forcing the blog has implicit humor.”

Forcing a blog sounded like torture to me. Maybe he meant watching me struggle would be humorous.

He grabbed the arm of the love seat and straightened his back. “Add ten photos, one for each activity.”

Okay. He’d strung the idea too far this time. “My friend Catherine from the Meadville Pennwriters group said to limit photos to three in a blog.”

He stood and stretched. “I’m sure she had a good reason for the story you were writing at the time, but this blog is different. Adding ten photos will make it funnier. Trust me.” He walked into the house, returned with his gear, and got into his car.

Leaning over the porch railing, I waved him off for his drive to work at UPS in Seneca.

Maybe Charlie had a point.

Besides, I didn’t want to go inside. I fetched my laptop and returned to the porch. Sitting in his spot on the love seat, I raced to input notes before I forgot what he’d said. Then I roughed out the beginning of his blog idea―activity six.

#6 Rough Draft

A field sparrow sang  an ode to summer, wind chimes tinkled in the breeze, and great spangled fritillaries  sipped milkweed nectar in the field. I tapped keys. Sunshine inched across the porch, over my feet, and up my shins. Toasted, I shut the laptop.

Before retreating into the cooler log house, I calculated the next piece of getting the blog together. I needed four more activities. With Saturday’s forecast of sunny and warm, I could manage three outdoor activities. But six plus three equaled nine not ten.

Maybe Charlie’s photo idea wasn’t so daft. Dashing inside to exchange the laptop for my camera and props, I created still lifes on the deck and porch―activity seven.

#7 Photos

Saturday dawned sunny, warm, and with my husband Spence at home where he could assist if I needed help―my three prerequisite conditions for washing windows. The half inside, half outside task could count as number eight for the blog. Starting at 9:00 a.m. so I’d finish by lunch, I collected rags, window cleaner, and a bucket of water. I turned to Spence. “Is it okay if I wash screens on the deck?”

His eyebrows rose two inches. “I’m waiting for the deck dry so I can stain it.”

“Okay. I’ll wash them on the porch.”

Washing screens with a dripping wet rag made a sound, like a giant zipper opening and closing, and drove robins off their porch nests. I let the screens dry in the sunshine and the robins return to their nests while I washed our two section windows inside. Each section of the window folded inward so I could reach the outside of the window. Pressing the plastic track and yanking the window toward me only worked three of four times. That fourth time I shouted, “I need your help, Spence.”

“I’m you’re guy,” he said again and again even when I called him in from the north garden.

Due to the generous coatings of dust, thistle fluff, and dead bugs, I didn’t finish until 3:45 p.m. The blazing sun had roasted the air temperature to 91ºF (33ºC). I wiped sweat off every part of my body, resigned myself to accomplishing only two outside tasks that day, and processed photos inside.

#8 Wash Windows and Screens

After dinner, the sun dipped behind the trees and I stepped outside. “I’m going to work in the garden,” I told Spence who was spraying himself with tick repellent. “What can I weed for you?”

He handed the spray can to me. “I’ve got the perfect job for you. Not weeding.”

I sprayed.

He pointed to the three covered cherry trees. “Take the cover cloth off the cherries. Untie the halves to get six sections. Use one to cover each blueberry bush in the south garden.”

“Don’t those blueberries need weeded.” I slipped on my garden gloves.

He shrugged. “Only if you want. The plants set their fruit. They’re going to do what they’re going to do.”

After unfastening and pulling the cover cloths off the cherry trees, I walked to the south garden and peered into the blueberry cages. Thistles, wild grass, and ground ivy grew through pine straw mulch. I yanked the weeds before wrapping the tops with cover cloth.

Spence brush hogged the field below me. He paused to walk over and make sure I was managing. The fifth time, he said, “Time to go inside. You can finish tomorrow.”

I’d only wrapped three of the six cages, but said, “I can’t work on the blueberries tomorrow. I have to write my blog. I didn’t write anything today.”

“Just relax.” He patted my shoulder. “You can finish the cover cloth Monday or Tuesday. The berries won’t ripen that fast.”

#9 Garden Work

So steamy hot, Sunday morning, I dragged my laptop to the porch and extended the rough draft―not activity ten because I’d counted drafting the blog as number six. I just couldn’t resist the blue sky and green trees.

Then a bird squawked its distress from a Douglas fir in the tree nursery twelve feet in front of me.

Baby morning doves sitting on the ends of a Canada fir turned their heads toward the commotion. A goldfinch landed on top of a pine. A sparrow and chickadee bounced on branches near the doves. Carrying a worm in its beak, robin fluttered up from the ground. Turkeys clucked in the woods. And, walking back from the garden, Spence stared at the tree. “Some bird’s in distress. A predator's in there. Maybe a snake crawled up the tree.”

“The squawking isn’t going to bother a snake.” I said and stared at the computer screen determined to finish the draft. Which I did after the squealing stopped and way past lunchtime.

I still had one activity to go.

Forgetting the challenge and scrubbing cat litter boxes in the cool basement tempted me. But an image of Charlie floated through my mind. His eyes glowed like sparklers, and his infectious grin made my mother’s heart quiver. I wouldn’t give up.

The sun glared throughout the afternoon. I stayed inside, polished the story, and drank quarts of water. 

After dinner, the sun set behind the woods. Birds sang their evening chorus. On the porch, I squinted at my laptop to upload text, insert photos, and create links. I published my blog, activity ten.

The pieces―pegging out Charlie’s frame, writing up cards on activities, and tucking everything into a neat case, so to speak―came together in activity ten. I’d completed Charlie’s recommendations for blue and green reflections on the second week of summer.

#10 Publish Blog