This is the week of the high solar tide, the time of summer solstice, the time of the longest days.
A person mighty measure these longest days of the sun not so much by technological astronomy as by when catalpa flowers fall or by when the first black raspberries start to redden and when buds protrude on the milkweeds, and acorns have appeared on the oaks, and Osage fruits are the size of golf balls, and foot-long seedpods form on the locust trees, and the first black walnut falls to the ground.
In the longest days, the year's ducklings and goslings are nearly full grown. Now is the time that great mullein blooms in the fields, and mock orange petals are fall and water willows blossom beside the streams.
It's the time delicate damselflies hover near the rivers, and pokeweed is blossoming in the alleys, and the very first thistles are soft and white with down.
This is Bill Felker with "Poor Will’s Almanack." I’ll be back again next week with notes for the first week of Deep Summer. In the meantime, forget the astronomical math. Measure the longest days with what lies around you.
