The story takes place on Venus, where it rains all the time, the sun only appearing every seven years and lasting for one precious hour before the endless rain begins once again. Just one child in a classroom of nine year old students had ever experienced seeing the sun, as she previously lived on Earth. With longing and wonder she spoke of the beauty of sun to her classmates, as she eagerly awaited its upcoming return. “All Summer in a Day” is a short story that was written by science fiction author Ray Bradbury in 1954. Impactful when read so many years ago, it still causes a bit of heartache to think of it even now. If you are not familiar with it, I recommend this short but powerful read. During times where there have been interminable stretches of rain (as we have had recently in the northeast), I cannot help but reflect on this story while yearning for sunlight.

At the moment, everything is wet. It has taken on a bit of a dance, packing those brief, dry spaces in-between with being outdoors. A few days of rain, then it stops; cram in as much gardening as possible, mow before the next week of precipitation, take advantage of umbrella-free walks, drive to places on roads you might not want to drive on when it’s pouring due to flooding, poor visibility, big trucks.

Then it is inside again for stretches of time, resignedly doing chores put off. Vacuuming. Laundry. Washing the floors. Paying bills. Eating an entire bag of chocolate chip sea salt shorbread cookies. With that also comes the urge to Order Things on line – a slippery slope…..like a pound of Japanese matcha tea, or another pair of sandals I don’t need at all (especially in the rain). So here I sit with yet another To-Do from the list; finally trying to catch up with this page, which has been sadly neglected for a few weeks. The gray days have been somewhat stagnating, making it too easy to doom-scroll social media or get lost in a movie or series instead of spending it productively.

All this water has modified the direction of growth in the garden beds around The Urban Porch. Dog Vomit Slime Mold (Fuligo septica) bloomed where I had planted Zinnia seeds. This commonly shows up on mulch. The yellow scrambled eggs appearance was rather impressive, vanishing after one brief sunny day, and has not returned (so far). I get a kick out of the nickname.

Although the leaves on my peonies flourished, there was only one small, fragrant flower. I kept going back to it in order to partake of the lovely scent while it lasted. It was quickly soaked and bowed over in one of the deluges and was finished.

There was only one yellow iris too. The other buds stalled and wilted on the stems.

And only one small flower on the Wild Indigo (Baptisia). This was a major disappointment, as it usually is prolific and impressive.

During a break in the weather I attempted some serious weeding, actually filling wheelbarrows full of weeds.

Little Rudi followed me around the yard and along the length of the driveway as I worked, stopping frequently to plop down in the shade. He looks about as exhausted as I feel.

The standing water gathering everywhere has launched an abundance of mosquitos, leaving arms, ankles, and even my face repeatedly bitten. After the maddening itch, the bites seem to settle down, only to suddenly flair up again.

Whenever a clear day breaks through there is an urge to seize the moment. Over the last few weeks there have been a few road trips to appreciate art. Roz Chast is one of my favorite cartoonists, whose work has been highlighted in The New Yorker magazine for years.

There was a show of her work at a gallery a little over an hour from here, which included some of her cartoons rendered in embroidery. After much stalling, I finally got out there to see it before it closed.

When it comes to Roz Chast, I feel seen.

Despite all the water, at least some of the things growing around The Urban Porch are gaining enjoyment from the deluge. Milkweed is rising all over the place. Hopefully some Monarch butterflies will arrive and take advantage of their chosen food.

Primrose and Rose Campion are providing a happy chroma duet.

Spirea has been lush and filled with bumble bees. They appear to dodge the raindrops.

The Lemon Balm (Melissa officinalis) also flourished. I was able to dig enough up to share with a number of people in the community. That always feels nice.

Back to another long stretch of rain and another show of art – this time a private collection of wonderful illustrations. Here is one from Aesop’s fables, The Wolf and the Crane, by Caldecott Medal recipient Jerry Pinkney.

And a page from Charlotte’s Web, illustrated by Garth Williams! Why is it that seeing the original artwork is a different experiential vibe as opposed to looking at reproductions? I did some quick research on this; as I understand it, there is a region of the brain called the precuneus, which processes self-related mental imagery and stimulates self-reflection, triggering an emotional response to seeing the fine details and vibration of an original work.

I was drawn to this Illuminated Monkey by Trisha McBain – the detail is lovely. A pretty recent piece, I haven’t yet found any background information about it or the artist.

Back out on the porch, the tomatoes seem to be doing very well, perhaps because I have some control over the amount of water they are getting.

For now there seems to be a steady supply for salads and sandwiches.

It is time for mulberries and all I can say about that is “Boo”. When I walked down the street to gather some, it was apparent the window for doing this had been missed. Taken down by gusts of wind and rain, it was mostly a water-logged mess on the ground. A few rather sad looking, bland, uninspiring ones were collected just because. I guess they could be added to a smoothie, but I will probably toss them. *Sigh*. Perhaps next year….

The towering Tulip Tree (Liriodendron) down the street had also dropped many of its gorgeous, prehistoric looking flowers before I was able to enjoy it, leaving crumpled, soggy brown blooms on the sidewalk below. There were still flowers intact high above though, peaking from within cat-faced leaves. As something to look forward to every year, it was good to catch their finale.

Aren’t these blooms fascinating in an alien sort of way?

The weather has not kept the fauna in their dens and nests. Bunnies in the garden abound.

Some time was spent lounging around on my daughter’s screened-in porch (safe from the mosquitos), listening to the intermittent rainfall and watching the birds come back to swoop around the feeder as the sky cleared. This Red-Bellied Woodpecker was so shy that if you so much as moved a muscle it would take off.

By far the most impressive animal sighting this past week took place in my friend’s backyard, where she managed to get a snapshot of it. What a beauty!

It has been many years since I have had the treat of seeing a Bobcat up close and in person. The last time was decades ago, when my friend Emrose and I spied one in his yard, peering at us from the weeds, unmoving, as we stood just inside his front door. “Wow, do you think that’s a Lynx?” “I don’t think we have Lynx around here, it must be a Bobcat! ” “A Bobcat!!! Wow…just wow!!!“

Actually, sitting out on The Urban Porch in the rain is rather pleasant as long as a west wind isn’t pummeling it into your face. I made some purple potatoes with butter and habanero salt and sat outside eating them, until the mosquitos drove me back inside.

Circling back now to the story “All Summer in a Day” – the girl waiting and aching to see the sun again was named Margot. There have been times where I have felt like Margot, or found myself in a sadly parallel position. On reading the story back then, I cried for Margot, and for myself, and for anyone who might have found themselves even momentarily forgotten. At times perhaps we have all been a little bit like Margot, waiting for the rain to stop.

Projecting the story a step beyond and out of context, every once in a while I struggle between the tendency of wanting to avoid social situations and being isolated, while up against a bit of FOMO (Fear of Missing Out). Of course sometimes it turns out you weren’t missing out on much anyway, but on occasion the FOMO can be a catalyst to overcoming the hesitation and having experiences that otherwise would not have occurred. While not all those experiences might end up being so great, they do often tend to be noteworthy.

Finalizing this rather long catch-up on the mundane doings of a life in a wet summer and being the Anti-Socialite that I am, it is so easy and comfortable to cocoon and just stay home, using the rain as an easy excuse. Thus, having a great aversion to crowds and there being a heavy gray sky, there was no intention of going to the most recent protest march (“No Kings”)

However, the rain had stopped, and seeing as it was happening mere blocks from my house, it seemed there was no harm in walking down there to check out (at a distance) what was happening….. only to find myself swept up into the vibrant – yet respectful – energy and running into so many people I knew from so many different segments of my life. One minute I was out of it and the next minute I was part of it, and it was good. Having been propelled into a collective situation and now out of my shell, I ended up afterward going to a party celebrating Gemini birthdays, which I had previously and firmly decided not to attend. And that turned out to be pretty okay too.

Out walking Little Rudi in a light drizzle, I encountered a neighbor rarely seen, mowing his small patch of lawn with a manual reel push mower. We stood there chatting for a while, despite the accumulating mist seeping into our clothing, when from over his shoulder the colors appeared. “Turn around and look” I said, “before you miss it.“

~*~