The raspberries are winding down. I was picking from a pint to almost a quart every day for a while. Lately they’re ripening much more slowly and the ones that do ripen seem a bit collapsed and/or partly eaten.
Birds, I figured – until the day I saw wasps and honeybees landing on berries before I could get to them. They’d grab hold, lock on, and start sucking/chewing away.
This was so entertaining to watch that I had a hard time blaming them for bogarting the berries I really, really wanted for the freezer.
Can’t really blame them: I, too, want to extract every last bit of sweetness before the season ends.
The past few days have been unseasonably mild. The sun is bright and even warm. Compared to a June sun, though, it’s like a social kiss: close enough to get its point across but far enough away to feel like display rather than true affection.
The marvel of an Alaska summer is a wonderful gift. It’s simply too brief.
I always wish I could have a few extra weeks of May and June – the best months in the year to my way of thinking. But summer fades quickly, beginning with heavy rains in July, continuing through chilly August mornings and culminating with a September frost that, though anticipated, always surprises.
Focusing on the moment
Not that the rest of the year doesn’t have its delights. Laying in extra groceries and stacking up stovewood both carry a fine sense of purpose and security. Being snowbound on purpose is cozy and restful. And spring – even when it’s gray and rainy – is such a tonic that I don’t care about all that mud.
Thus I’ll try to focus on what I still have – a few more weeks of potentially summer-ish weather – rather than focus on the fact that it’s slipping away. Why mourn before I must? It’ll just make me miss the best of what’s left, such as the still-long evenings and those last few raspberries.
Or the Alaska State Fair. I’m taking the train up there tomorrow with my niece and her two boys. Although I always expect low clouds and sideways rain, today’s weather report seemed to indicate a sunny and mild Saturday.
Then I looked at the second half of the forecast: Cloudy by 1 p.m. On the other hand, the predicted high is 63 degrees. That’s lots better than some state fairs I’ve attended, many of which left me damp and thoroughly chilled.
Besides, I’ll be at the fair to help judge the Greatland Chili Fiesta. After tasting more than 100 kinds of chili and salsa, I might need a little cooling-off.
Related reading:
I live in a much more temperate climate-metro Chicago. My oldest daughter grows raspberries & she was complaining that the harvest has been REALLY poor this year. Same for basil.
On the other hand, the tomatoes & kale are going gang busters.
Here in Fairbanks it’s 45 degrees this morning and a battalion of smart Canada geese just flew south over Chena Marina. Tomatoes are not gonna ripen this year due to the crazy amount of rain, but the high and low bush cranberries are magnificent, as are the shaggy mane mushrooms. Cloud formations to die for every day, and this weekend the Tanana Valley Crane Festival will be fun. There are a zillion cranes still dancing at Creamers Field. Life is good in the Interior.
This line is brilliant:
“it’s like a social kiss: close enough to get its point across but far enough away to feel like display rather than true affection.”
Pure poetry.
Exactly!
Thanks for your kind words, Val.
My tomatoes are slow to ripen this year. About now I start to get anxious about gathering what produce I can to enjoy during the winter. Tonight it’s grape picking and making juice.
While the weather in Utah has been cooler, I am still reluctant to say goodbye to summer just yet. I need another outdoor concert or two, one more picnic, and a little more food in the freezer and on the shelves before I am ready to hybernate with some good books.