Apparently, blogging is not my forte, and particularly during the height of summer, when the days are longest but feel the shortest, disappearing in a haze of animal husbandry, berry picking, fence line clearing, firewood cutting, garden tending, and so on.
Yesterday I was picking blueberries at 5:50 a.m., and again at 8:30 p.m., both time marveling at the spectral quality of light on the cusp of darkness. The blueberries are early this year, and the raspberries are still going strong; at times it feels as if we are burdened by berries. This is of course ridiculous and it is a feeling I get over very quickly.
First pick
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