Note, 4 years later: another dry May. I’m sitting at my desk, sleepless (because I’ve just returned from Ottawa and my body’s clock has yet to find its coastal sequence), looking out at stars and the waning flower moon. A quick walk around the garden when we got home late yesterday afternoon revealed an almost scary jungle out there, roses and poppies blooming, and evidence of a bear’s visit.
We’re promised a hot dry summer here on the west coast of British Columbia and I believe it. Almost no rain for the whole month of May, plants three weeks ahead of themselves, the tomato vines laden with blossom. I think of W.G. Sebald’s enigmatic poem, “Barometer Reading”, with its beautiful opening lines:
Nothing can be inferred
from the forecasts
are ignoring their ladders…
Here’s yesterday’s tree frog, climbing the railings to settle among the honeysuckle:
And a further prediction of the hot summer to come — an abundance of the northern alligator lizards, basking on rocks, scuttling from woodshed to cool border, and even mating on top of the old kindling pile (it lasted hours!):