Love, July

I came home late last night and the big dipper was ladeling my house, scooping up stars as it went through the backyard and hugging the side garden on its way. It sipped from the bird bath in the front and I almost got caught up by it but I tiptoed to my front door before it reached the porch. It caused a stirring in the trees; it cooled me in a way only deep nighttime in July does sometimes. My sticky skin and that summer dipper, full of blackberries and hose water and the far away smell of smoke, both of us briney, and in that moment I have some stillness.

August is my end of the year. I’m looking forward to it; it’s a month with nothing but perseverance and it’s the hard thing we all get through as a reminder that we can. Everything comes to an end, hard things especially, and if there are only 31 days before September then there is your obvious finish line. Sure, good things come with August, too (my mom would disagree); the river is finally warm enough for Sunday morning and tomato tarts are baked before the house heats up too much. The big dipper is stationed over my home every night and we still get to eat ice cream on the back porch. The push is exhausting though, and I am excited for the season to shift.

These days the backyard smells like apple cider vinegar. It’s because the tree in the lot behind us is dropping fruit and no one is around to pick it up. Sometimes we reach waaaaay over the fence, with our long apple picking arms, to grab red ones to send through the press. It’s a job I look forward to every year, and this year there aren’t many, although every other tree in the neighborhood is drooping and breaking in half on account of the weight. I like fresh apple cider because it goes about as quickly as it’s made. You can lean over and catch the drops in your mouth and get sticky and that’s it, gone til next year.

Niko and I pressed all of last year’s apples together and I’ll tell you now, we make one hell of a team. I swear we don’t even have to talk about a single thing, it’s just me cutting bite-sized chunks and him turning, turning, turning the wheel until we’re out. It’s a little dance of pouring out the full cambro, catching it all in the bottle before we lose another pitcher’s full into the grass. I love the look on his face when he gets focused like that, frowny and quick with his moves, then a little dance when he’s got it right.

I’m excited for what’s to come and I’m grateful for the opportunities I’ve had in July. This month was serious and I worked hard but never really hard enough, it seems. Here’s to more projects and more connections, and to all of the dreams in my head coming to reality :) promise I won’t be so serious next time.