I’m lucky that the oppressive heat of the last week has taken leave for my horticulture therapy class. Usually the Summer solstice celebration happens around the summer solstice, when the weather is nearly perfect in New England. But after catching a bout of Covid, I had to delay the class and change its focus.
“. . .summer mornings are the best time to be in the garden. remnants of the coolness of the night touch the skin and give the lungs stamina for hoeing, weeding and watering. Birds circle vigilantly, waiting for a back to turn so they can fetch a pea or bean. Butterflies bask on milkweed blossoms. Clear colors abound until the sun raises higher and casts its whitening rays over all. Summer mornings, summer afternoons. . . . .all are summer pleasures.” Martha Adams Rubin, Countryside Garden & Table.
“It’s just a month later than the solstice,” I say. “But the local food I am serving up is very different given the season.” Everyone looks at the menu for the day, cradling either Sun Tea or white wine. Though we have no strawberries, ripe tomatoes and plums have taken their places.
Walking around the property, the late Spring flowers such as lilac, lupine and peony are gone replaced by the mid-Summer flowers of hostas, zinnias, marigolds and cosmos. The day lilies are fading but hydrangea are budding out.
The biggest difference are my vegetable gardens, which are in full production mode with over a dozen edible plants ready to be harvested. I let my clients pick from the pole beans and nibble away before leading them back to the patio so they can sample today’s repast.
