DOG DAYS OF SUMMER

The Dog Days of Summer in Pennsylvania are those hot, humid days at the end of July and on into August when the temperatures reach the high eighties into the nineties. Growing up on our farm in Pennsylvania, the Dog Days meant hurrying to get the last fields of first cutting hay, dried, baled and into the barn.

Haying season in the Northeast typically begins in early June and continues through the summer and early fall, with multiple cuttings possible depending on the weather. Despite the blazing sun, the tiredness of the work, and the prickly hayseeds and stalks adding to the discomfort, summer and haying season always brought warm memories to store and hold dear.

Before we bought a baler, my father first used an old horse-drawn hayloader attached to the back of his 1932 flat bed truck that was once a milk truck. The driver of this set-up slowly maneuvered the truck up the rows of hay, making sure the tires straddled the raked windrows. The hayloader with its many tines grabbed the hay and moved it upward where my father, using a pitchfork, spread it evenly on the load.  It was then unloaded, lifted off the truck by a pulley and large fork on a track inside the barn.                                                     

From first grade onward, I was the driver. My brother had been born in January, so my mother was busy tending to him. I loved the outdoors, smell of fresh dried hay—and I loved machinery and its rumbling sounds, despite the smell of gas and oil.

Because the driver can’t see the load once the window opening behind him is covered with hay, I learned to listen to my father’s shrill whistle which meant to immediately stop. I would have to half-standup, jump one foot on brake and the other on the clutch. Usually, his whistle was for various reasons like he needed more time to spread the hay about, or a black racer snake came up onto the load and had to be pitched off, or the loader wasn’t operating correctly.

There were many, many things I learned living on a farm. Too many to tell here. But the first one is that farming is dangerous. You learn to follow directions early in life and do as you’re told. Breaking a rule can result in injury or death.

Many people ask whether it was tiresome and hard. Yes, at times. Especially during the Dog Days. After all, who’s fond of working in 90+ degree heat with hayseeds sliding down your back and sweat running into your eyes?

But it was also fun. And at the end of the day, there was always the satisfaction of a chore well done. . . even if you were just a kid. 

IT'S CHRISTMAS IN JULY!  

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A SALUTE TO JULY!

“I drifted into a summer nap under the hot shade of July, 

serenaded by a cicada lullaby,

to drowsy-warm dreams of distant thunder.”  

—Terri Guillemets* 

I think I might be the only person who sadly hates to see the end of June. For me, it means we’ve moved one-third closer to the end of summer as we enter the Dog Days of Summer and July.

I’ve always thought of summer as June, July, and August. Oddly, I have never considered September as a month belonging to the season, yet a portion of it is. I think it’s a throwback from youth when we started school the end of August. Summer was a time when we were free from long bus rides, lugging books from school to home and back, doing homework, and abiding by a strict daily routine. Summer was truly a time to smell the roses in bloom and eat handfuls of sun-warmed berries growing wild along the roads or in farm pastures.

July is the month of movement. We have the Fourth of July to celebrate, complete with outdoor get-togethers, music, and sparkling fireworks. In the U.S., the month is packed with fairs, festivals, carnivals, and arts and crafts shows. There are celebrations for almost every day of the month, including special days for hotdogs, raspberries, and cheesecake. July 23^rd is National Day of the Cowboy while July  27th is Take Your Houseplants for a Walk Day.         

While July’s average temperatures make it the hottest month of the year in the Northern Hemisphere, it is also the coldest month on average in the Southern Hemisphere. In the northern states like Pennsylvania, July is a time for vacationing and trips to our nation’s beaches, rivers, and parks to engage in activities like swimming, boating, water skiing, hiking, geo-caching, and more.

July is a unique month with its ruby gemstone, symbolizing love, passion and courage. The larkspur and water lily are the state flowers. The full moon in July this year occur on the 10^th and is called the “Buck Moon” because the antlers of male deer (bucks) are in full-growth mode at this time. July is often considered the middle of summer where there is nothing like its sunny days to remind you of how wonderful life can be.                                       

*(NOTE: Terri Guillemets is the pen name
of Terri A. Woodhull,a quotation anthologist
born in 1973 in Phoenix, Arizona.)

 

       LINK to my AMAZON AUTHOR PAGE  

JUNE - Is Busting Out All Over!

"It was June, and the world smelled of roses.

 The sunshine was like powdered gold over the grassy hillside."

– Maud Hart Lovelace 

American Children’s Book Author (1822-1980)

There is something special in the air and over the lands in Pennsylvania when June waltzes in with her bouquet of vibrant flowers and lush grasses that cover the lawns and fields. The entire world seems to come alive. Trees and bushes wearing their timid light green foliage change into their summer clothes of a deep green. Despite the constant rains of May, the sun peeks out. Overhead the sky is colored a soft cozy blue with fluffy white clouds floating around.

Our backyard has become a haven for our feathered friends who have arrived early. We have chickadees in a birdhouse under our patio, finch nests in our hanging ferns, bluebirds in a box on one of our fences, robins under our deck, and sparrows in a second birdhouse nearby. And let’s not forget the doves. They have taken a spot in a tree in the neighbor’s yard and are cooing back and forth to each other as early as five o’clock every morning. The chirps, cheeps, whistles, and warbles of our feathered fellows merge to make up a summer chorus filled with melodies. 

I have to admit, the smell of drying clover and other field grasses is one of summer’s most pleasant scents, along with June roses in full bloom. And who can ignore the light fragrances of lavender or sun-kissed red raspberries when they drift out into the breeze?

 

Growing up in the country, this was the time of the year when we farm kids all uttered a deep sigh as soon as we heard the sound of the tractor and its mower heading out to the nearest hay field. The odors of gasoline, motor oil, and baler twine became a common smell. Soon, we knew we’d be tossing hay bales onto wagons and into hay lofts.

June is my favorite month. It’s clean, new, and the start of summer and warmer weather. It’s vibrant vegetation. Sizzling sunshine. And, by the way, it’s my birthday! 

 

                                                 LINK to my AMAZON AUTHOR PAGE 

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