Is there any better marker of the season than the corn that grows along the sides of Route 404 in Caroline County? As I passed these fields last week, on another year's trip to the beach, I forgot about the snow imprisonment of February and considered only the summer ahead. That corn, by the way, looked fabulous.
The other Saturday, a farmers' market vendor I know only as the Lima Bean Lady had some beautiful tomatoes. She swore they were Eastern Shore-grown and delicious. I had trouble understanding as she explained how they were fattened and ripened so early in the season. But the Lima Bean Lady does not lie. I scooped them up and let them sit a week. She was so accurate. Those pampered tomatoes were heavenly, all the more so early in June. Bring on a Maryland summer.
I confess to falling off to sleep the other night on my back porch in Charles Village. Over the years, the wicker chair that seems to have grown around me gets more comfortable. There is just something about a June evening when the lightning bugs emerge. They were going crazy, putting on a show on one of these nights when it seems to stay light until a little after 9.
And let's not forget the blessed light that arrives at 5:15 in the morning. After months of winter darkness, I am out of bed at this hour and starting the day.
If the snows of February, and three weeks of confinement, brought any silver lining, I find it in my garden. There are have been other years when the garden has been lush, but this spring has been amazing. The weather has also seemed a little warmer. Everything is blooming earlier and more vigorously. A black-eyed Susan is already in full flower. I think of these as being only mid-July visitors.
The roses are very happy. They are now into the second act after their initial performance last month.
My backyard fish pond has no heaters, no circulating pumps and no filters. It is just a tub of water with a dozen or so feeder fish bought for 13 cents apiece at a pet store a year ago. The pond froze early this winter and stayed that way. The fish must be tough. They emerged healthier than ever this spring, the fattest my little school has ever been. I have no explanation.
Some recent walks through city alleys have convinced me that the best roses bloom in the most unlikely spots, on rusty garages and over old wash lines. The less care they get, the better they bloom.
This rule also holds true for scattered seeds — the larkspur, zinnias and hollyhocks. Left to come up on their own, they seem to do fine.
I've also noticed that there are places where things just grow better — a phenomenon that has more to do with geography than the hard work done by conscientious gardeners who build up the soil with peat moss, cow manure and other treats.
Now there is one certainty of warm weather in Baltimore that had made no appearance in my little world. I was beginning to grow a little worried. I looked and looked but observed nothing. Then, close to nightfall, the first urban rat of the season meandered through my daisy patch and turned sharply toward my neighbor's yard. Can summer be far away?