So This is July

65°f/18°C, overcast and very foggy after yesterday's heavy rain.

Can you spot Larry in the corn? Hint: he's a red dot in the center.

Well, here we are, already charging forward into July. I admit, July is my least favorite month. I hate the heat. I hate the humidity. But it's unavoidable so I soldier on and will this month to be over quickly.

I was curious about what lore and superstitions might be attached to this month, and found it is laden with them. Here's some if what I turned up:

Then came hot July boiling like to Fire,
That all his Garments he had cast away...
~Edmund Spenser, The Faerie Queene, 1596

If the first of July be rainy weather,
It will rain, more or less, for four weeks together.
~English proverb

According to legend, Hercules is positioned upside-down in the sky so he can be head-to-head with the second of our celestial giants, Ophiuchus, the Doctor. Ophiuchus discovered the magic formula to eternal life; unfortunately for him, this didn’t bode well for Pluto, the god of the Underworld, who would then lose all his future inhabitants, so Pluto sent a serpent down to Ophiuchus, under the premise that should the good doctor prove victorious, we would all life forever; if the serpent won, Pluto would continue to receive us at the end of our lives. We can see the battle still raging, because on either side of Ophiuchus is a section of the snake, the constellation Serpens.

July 3rd marks the beginning of the “Dog Days of Summer.” Spanning from July 3rd to August 11th, this period marks when the Sun aligns with Sirius, the Dog Star. In ancient times, people believed that this celestial event resulted in scorching hot weather when Sirius and the Sun worked together.


July 15 — St. Swithin’s Day — if on St. Swithin’s Day ye do rain, for forty days it will remain.
Both of these are from the Old Farmer's Almanac.


Please, don't marry in July! Save your guests the misery of a hot wedding, and yourself a lifetime, apparently, of misery.

Married in July with flowers ablaze, bitter-sweet memories in after days.”

“Those who in July do wed, must labour for their daily bread.”

“A July bride will be handsome, But a trifle quick-tempered.”


And more:

"Ne'er trust a July sky." This suggests the weather in July can be unpredictable.
"If ant hills are high in July, the coming winter will be hard." This is an old belief about predicting winter severity based on ant behavior.
"As July, so next January." This suggests the weather in July might indicate the weather for the following January.
"No tempest, good July, Lest the corn look ruely." This implies that a calm July without storms is favorable for corn crops.
"Whatever July and August do not boil, September can not fry." This suggests that if the weather in July and August isn't hot enough to mature crops ("boil"), they won't ripen in September ("fry).
These last are from AI, but are verified by many other sources.

Covid Journal, Day 122: The Drone of July

76, humid and cloudy this morning. It looked like rain, but the sun soon came out. Watering continues.

 I am not a fan of summer, and most especially, not a fan of July. The only things I like in this hot, humid month are the birthdays of family and friends, and fresh veggies from the garden. I know that sounds whiny, but it's the truth--this is my least favorite month of the year.

But I persevere, and try to find what good there is to be found in this mid-year month. Of course, the best thing is my youngest son, born on the 30th of the month. And usually, tomatoes, although this year it looks like it will be August before we have our first ripe one. Thank you, cold wet spring, for this disappointment and delay!

Still, there are good things. The days are a little shorter and cool off in the evenings earlier. There are fireflies, and at dusk the hoot-owl in the woods. There is the fragrance of herbs--lavender, lemon balm, rosemary, dill all scent the air if brushed by my hand. There is bee balm too with its spicy fragrance, marigolds and the headiness of lilies.

The grass grows slower so we are not cutting as much, and even though there are no tomatoes yet, there is a bounty of cucumbers, squashes, kale, and beans. We can eat outside in the cool mornings, and the porch stays comfortable all day with the ceiling fan on.

Some poets have also noted the blessings of July in their writings: the English poet John Clare had this to say:

July
Loud is the summer's busy song
The smallest breeze can find a tongue,
While insects of each tiny size
Grow teasing with their melodies,
Till noon burns with its blistering breath
Around, and day lies still as death.


And Stephen Patrick, another English poet, had his own view of the month:

Sleepy July in Skipwith Common

Across the open common land
shines glowing purple floral blooms
The bumble bee can hardly stand,
as flowers' scent is rising fumes

And lies there in the summer shade
a resting deer quite joyfuly
for in this beauteous sunlit glade
all's observed by sent'nel tree

This tall oak stands by sparkling stream,
whose water splashes grass and rock,
reflecting in its azure gleam,
the woodland plant and dandy clock

While goes beneath the cloudless sky,
amidst a warm and dreamy breeze,
a squirrel idling, passing by,
past numerous, careless, floating seeds.

And yet one more Brit, Ruth Pitter, says this about July in her poem, "The Diehards":

We go in withering July
To ply the hard incessant hoe;
Panting beneath the brazen sky
We sweat and grumble, but we go.

Yes, Pitter has it right. "We sweat and grumble, but we go".


Copyright Susanna Holstein. All rights reserved. No Republication or Redistribution Allowed without attribution to Susanna Holstein.

The Good, the Bad, and the Fruits (and Sweat) of Summer

 I. Hate. July.

Of all the months of the year, July is my official least favorite.

I hate being hot. I hate being sticky. I hate waking up when it's already near 80 degrees, and only going to get hotter. I hate having to stay inside so much because it's too hot to go out.

I hate this month. And I use the word hate deliberately. I really do hate it.

In winter, we can stoke up the fire and add more clothes if it's cold. Yes, we're stuck inside a lot, but we can bundle up and go out and be pretty comfortable.

In winter, we can enjoy being cozy by the fireplace while we watch the snow fly.

In summer, we sit inside, looking out at the beautiful green, the flowers and trees...and the simmering heat. If we go out, we sweat. A lot.

In winter there is no sweat, and no bugs or snakes.

In summer, we swat, dodge and curse the bugs and keep a wary eye out for any unexpected movement in unexpected places.

In winter, I look forward to spring, but dread the coming of summer. In summer I look forward to fall, and to the peace and rest of winter.

This week the temperatures will be in upper 80's to mid-90's where I live. Not terrible, but add in the high humidity and it's like breathing underwater. So outside work has to be done early, and even then the humidity causes us to sweat and feel a lot hotter than the thermometer says it is.

And of course, it's during this time that the gardens are really coming into their own. There have been storms almost every day so plants are growing like we're in the tropics. We have so much squash and zucchini I think we could feed a third-world country. Tomatoes are ripening and now the fight is on with blight. Potatoes are done, beans are hanging on the vines, cucumbers are trying to conquer the world as they vine up and over their trellis. The late flat Dutch cabbage is ready to be cut and made into kraut. Onions are drying on the porch, waiting to be put away.

This summer I have canned not one jar...yet. We have frozen berries and broccoli and cabbage and eaten lots of fresh vegetables. But no canning, because the cellar is still so full that it seems ridiculous to put up more. I must have over a hundred jars of jam out there, more than we will eat in two years. There are jars of pickles, beans, and who knows what else. So we have been concentrating on eating what we have, and not, for a change adding much to it. That will change soon, as the tomatoes (the one thing I do need more of) begin to really come in.

We planted only a short row of beans because I just don't need them, so this year they will be for fresh eating. Corn will be ready next week and that will be frozen. And I will use the corn, tomatoes, green beans, onions and so on to put up some vegetable soup, something we both love and eat a lot of.

It's been nice to have a break, I must admit. We planted a little late when we saw how my summer schedule would play out, so that the bulk of the veggies came ripe in late July/August when I would not be on the road. What a blessing! The pressure that usually comes from bushels of vegetables sitting while I am gone really made July even harder to deal with for me. But this year, I've been able to concentrate of the storytelling and a little booth work, and not have to worry about canning and preserving.

One thing we've come to realize: we just don't need that much food. If we plant for early eating gardens, and late gardens, we can cut back on how much food we put up by a large amount. If I freeze the summer's berry crops, I can make the jams and jellies in winter when the extra heat from the stove is welcome.

So we've been trying, these last few years, to plant smarter, and it's worked to some degree. Last summer the late drought meant the late garden failed. I am hoping this summer's late plantings have better luck. Right now, late corn and beans are sprouting, and the second crop of cucumbers is taking off. The broccoli is still producing and I hope we can nurture it along into fall. The third planting of lettuce is ready for picking right now, and we will be putting more seeds out as soon as we have room.

I really do hate July. But this year, since I haven't had to do any canning yet, I don't hate it quite as much.

Copyright Susanna Holstein. All rights reserved. No Republication or Redistribution Allowed without attribution to Susanna Holstein.