I have to admit that, so far–with the disturbing exception of our very local ongoing drought–it has been a benign summer. We can even cut grass and string trim and do other puttering in the middle of the day, off and on during a week, so are less cabin-bound by the heat than we’ve been in hotter late Junes past.
The days are long and start in the mornings–my usual web-perusal and writing space. So I’m more often outdoors at the hour I used to be parked in my chair. Consequently, I’m back down to my fighting weight and can get into khakis I thought last winter were going to have to go to a trimmer man.
I’ve been busy also lately with this notion of providing a kind of teaching that seems compatible with my skill set, experience and passion. I write a good bit about sense of place, about appreciating the “wheres” of our lives. Maybe I can convey in some small measure that kind of personal orientation for guests to Floyd County.
And so Down2Earth Micro-Tours seems to be about to go live. Out of this engagement–a kind of eco-infotainment for visiting guests–may come a better personal fix on the lay of this particular land: its history, its personality and stories, on its sidewalks and on its mountain paths.
NOTE: it does not become officially sumsumsummertime until we take the first bite of our first home-grown tomato. Looks like that will be another couple of weeks down here in the canyon. We are importing additional truckloads of sunshine from up top to speed things along.
Now if it would just rain.
IMAGE CAPTION: At a recent summertime gathering of a largish group of humanity of very mixed ages, a young boy found a kayak on the bank of the pond. I was there with him that moment his paddle lifted from the fish-smelling water, as he revelled in the relative serenity of that open space while so many danced and cavorted in a wild rumpus on shore.