Year of Grace, Day 167. Intoxicating June

We’ve been having a rare run of perfect days since June began: sunny, mild – not too hot, not too cold – and lingering in the air, the scent of glorious flowers in bloom! Roses, of course, and superb sweet peas and jasmine-scented Philadelphus.  One mid-afternoon sitting in the kitchen and gazing out to the garden, I marvelled at the sheer perfection of one such day.  James Russell Lowell’s poem came to mind: “And what is so rare as a day in June? Then, if ever, come perfect days….”  One night, just after midnight, we had an impressive thunder-and-lightning storm — nature’s magnificent son-et-lumière display, seemingly happening just over the house. The day after, I checked to see what damage the plants sustained from the downpour. I needn’t have worried — they seem to have revelled in the dazzling light and electrical charges, as well as the refreshing rain!

And when a grown-up child comes visiting from far-off Tokyo, then that just crowns the perfection of these early summer days. Kampai!

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