June's tune

Valentine Blue
Stage 4
acrylic on canvas
Barbara Muir 2010
(The painting requires the exact right
blue on the farmhouse. I
found it tonight.)

June reminds me a bit of September and December,
two other months that insist on a list of behaviours.
In June in my part of Ontario it's safe to put the
garden in. There are a host of events, and one
was our show On The Bright Side. Then there's the
painting work, and pop the garden flourishes,
demanding attention and more plants! June says
sing my song now ....or else, and none of us here want to
hear that part.

We rarely have ripe cherries in June so that was a
surprise, but the tree reminds me of farming.
My friend Flora Doehler lives in the country in
Nova Scotia, and she and her husband Larry
just garden like crazy. But they are really
farming. Our cherry tree makes me feel a
tiny bit of what a farmer must feel. There
it is -- the crop is massive, and it only makes
sense to jump on that ladder (or climb it
very carefully as I do), or climb on the garage
roof to get even more, and pick.

So I couldn't resist and picked some more
fruit today. Six cups, pitted, sprinkled with
a bit of lemon juice and waiting.

Six cups of cherries getting ready
to be pitted.

Steven, who grew up on a farm, made the
pastry tonight while I pitted, and pitted and
pitted until my sissy city hands hurt. The
cherry tree fills our horizons so
completely that we hardly discussed the
earthquake that shook our house earlier in
the day, or the tornadoes threatened for
early tomorrow morning.

Steven making his pastry --
cracking an egg.

I did a little bit of work on my farm landscape
tonight. The house is now the right blue.
Tomorrow I'll finish it off. I promise.
Oh wait, I take that promise back. It's
my wedding anniversary -- see what I mean --
there goes June again, insisting on celebration,
and how can I not want to celebrate my
ridiculously happy good fortune to marry
a man who makes a fine cherry pie.

Have a celebrating-your-love-of-life day.