Slip-slidin' away

This time of year, during the dog days of summer, is not my favourite. This year especially, with most of the fun stuff behind us and the days dragging until our next adventures. Waiting for Charlie to come home on his last leave before deployment.


Did you ever wonder, "What ARE the dog days of summer and why do we call them that?"
Well, here I am, with a little help from Wikipedia, to answer the question.
Originally, the Dog Days were the days when Sirius, the Dog Star, rose just before or at the same time as sunrise. This is no longer true, due to some kind of astronomical change with a big name. Sirius is the brightest star in the sky, as shown in the above photo. The Romans sacrificed a brown dog at the beginning of the Dog Days to appease the rage of Sirius, believing that the star was the cause of the hot, sultry weather.
This image, of Sirius A and its little brother, Sirius B, was taken by the Hubble telescope.


Dog Days were popularly believed to be an evil time "when the seas boiled, wine turned sour, dogs grew mad, and all creatures became languid, causing to man burning fevers, hysterics, and phrensies" according to Brady’s Clavis Calendarium. Whatever that is.

Well, I wouldn't go so far as to say "evil," but the middle days of summer generally defeat me.
I lose control of my garden. Black spot engulfs the weaker specimens of rose bushes. Weeds win the war in less visible flowerbeds as my determination declines. The grass gets brown patches that highlight the inadequacies of our underground sprinkler system. Dead mimosa blossoms litter the front yard as I contemplate chopping the tree down for good. Watering the vegetable beds with the hose in the evening no longer charms me. Bees become somnolent and prone to sting.
Although here, in the centre of the picture, is one little bee who will enjoy these dog days no more. He is caught in a spider web. The spider was rushing in and out to the struggling bee from the shelter of the kabocha squash. By the time I returned with my camera the spider must have bitten the bee because its struggles were fading and the spider was merely biding its time.


On the other hand, the grape vines are laden with bunches of green, hard fruit. The lemon cucumbers are producing magnificently. Tomatoes are beginning to ripen and squash need only a few more weeks of sunshine to fulfill their destinies. Potato plants have been tested and found to be producing, even if not prolifically. Carrots, parsnips, and kohlrabi are producing modestly. Lots of little banana peppers are hanging from healthy plants. Most of the flower beds are behaving with decorum, hosting a minimum of weeds and nurturing colourful flowers. We survived the week of 100 degree plus temperatures and were blessed with a day or two of rain.

We can count the accomplishments of the summer so far:
Annie is happily (make that ecstatically) married.
Lots of memories made with Mum.
Lazy days in the back garden with the grandchildren.
A solid show of participation in Newberg Old Fashioned Days.
Several Tunes on Tuesday concerts.
A nice weekend in Astoria.
A kitchen remodeled.
A few trips to the Mustard Seed, with more to come.
Pizza cooked awesomely for the first time on the barbecue.
Oh yes, a new stove!
Several memorable barbecues with family and friends.

I shall just reflect on these triumphs and try to hold myself together until September.
And await Jonnie's corrections on the bee and spider story.
Because, you know, they will both arrive very soon.