Notes on standing still

Our neighbor across the lake has a better view of our cove and reports that she's seen two herons, perching, in flight, paroling. From this vantage, we've only seen one at a time. When standing, they're improbable beings, a bunch of sticks and feathers. In flight, though, from take-off through glide, they're gorgeous. Last evening, we startled one as we came along quietly in our kayaks. It grabbed the strong southerly breeze and took off.

We're due for some hot weather. The season's first heat, like the other season's first snow, brings a bit of alarm among media types. Even when you know that it's going to be just hot and nothing more than that, it's difficult to displace the thoughts of alarm. Will the bridges melt? Will small children and old people spontaneously combust?

Astrological summer begins today for those of us on the top half of the globe. (Meteorological summer began at the first of the month.) The longest day of the year, however, will take place on June 30, when we get a leap second.

On the solstice, of course, the sun doesn't really stand still. We're the ones who need it to stop, if only for a moment, so we can consider where we've been and where we will soon be.