Southeastern Michigan’s weather, this spring, is still figuring out what it’s doing. We’re at the tail end of May, and Dave Rexroth issued another freeze warning on Wednesday. The flowers have loved the spring. Magnolia blossoms in this area usually last a couple days. This year, they’re lingering so long on the trees that not even full foliage has crowded them all out. In the woods, early wildflowers are still blooming, while mayapple flowers are popping out under their beach-umbrella leaves.
Our clematis has lost its way. It used to train itself up another woody plant, but last winter’s storms brought down the support plant, which took the clematis down with it. Now, the twining starts of clematis don’t know what to do with themselves. It needs guidance, and pretty quickly, too, or it will bloom as an amorphous blob. Down the street, a neighbor’s clematis is already in glorious flower.
Activity in our back yard continues apace. Rascal and I returned to the house via the front door, one day this week, to have my husband ask if we’d come through the back yard. No, I answered, and he said, “Good. There’s a skunk in the back yard.” “Thanks for the call to let me know,” I said. He hadn’t thought of calling me off. No harm, no foul. The skunk hung around for a couple days, off and on. We didn’t bother it.
Later in the week, Rascal and I did come home the back way. When we hit our yard, a deer and I startled each other. Deer are largish animals, and most impressive when they run as fast as they can and you are very nearby. This one bounded across our yard, circling into Cory and Tanya’s yard, the yard behind theirs, Janice and Peter’s yard, and finally into their side yard and out of sight, while I stood with my hand on my chest and mouth agape watching it. The deer’s heart was, no doubt, pounding as hard as mine was. Rascal tracked the doe with interest but did not try to give chase. My husband had been watching two deer in the yard and hadn’t thought to let me know.
Today was baby day. Our North Carolina daughter and her husband are in town for a wedding and, of course, needed to meet their grand-niece, born in January. Robin is a wonder, as babies are, and obligingly woke up soon after we arrived. She allowed all of us to hold her, and we took long turns, observing her as she observed us.
She made talking sounds, blew bubbles and drooled, worked on prehension and, occasionally, smiled—which lit up not just her face, but everyone else’s, too. When placed on her tummy in a play structure, she favored us with a newish skill, rolling herself over onto her back. She did this several times as she played—Mommy kept turning her over—and the learning curve was steep, each effort quicker and more efficient than the one before. Our favorite part of the roll was Robin’s flamboyant use of her leading arm to improve her leverage. It looked like a move from synchronized swimming.
Yesterday evening, we dined with the North Carolina contingent and two other daughters at the Sidetrack, in Ypsilanti. We were happy to be together. That doesn’t happen often enough, once children are grown. We sat outside on the covered back deck, switching chairs as necessary so that tall people weren’t sitting with hanging plants in their hair. It was lovely to be eating outdoors again, like a formal beginning of summer pleasures. We enjoyed drinks and appetizers, lingered over our meals, and then got down to the important decision: whether or not to order the strawberry shortcake.
The strawberry shortcake is not to be undertaken lightly. It requires commitment and, preferably, a party of six or more. We decided to go for it. The reaction when the dessert arrived at our table was the usual one: laughter. This puppy is enormous. The Sidetrack doesn’t kid around when it comes to strawberry shortcake, even incorporating ice cream into its version of the summertime confection. Soup spoons at the ready, the six of us dug in.
Laughter recurred regularly as we worked our way through the dessert. Even so, we were definitely flagging toward the end. We sat for a while, contemplating the last bite. “I’m out,” said person after person, setting down his or her spoon until, heroically, I swallowed that final morsel.
Skunks, deer, new babies, or strawberry shortcake with your nearest and dearest. Heads up. Summer is at hand. Lucky, lucky us.
26 May 2023