This June hasn’t been what it was cracked up to be -- at least thus far.
And what is so rare as a day in June?
Then, if ever, come perfect days.
Then nature tries earth if it be in tune
And over it softly her warm ear lays.”
James Russell Lowell, in his poem, painted an idyllic picture of the month we’re in right now. No days filled with rain. No storms. No winds. No tornadoes. Just a perfect month in a beautiful season. It didn’t turn out that way. Well, we still have two weeks left -- so there’s still hope for some lovely days ahead.
Lowell’s poem seems idyllic but his words still make you feel the beauty of June -- and the wonder of the changes in season we experience throughout the year. Poets are the meteorologists of beautiful phrases. They make us appreciate the virtues of weather and nature.
The New England Courant noted wisely a century ago: “Everybody talks about the weather, but nobody does anything about it.”
And Mark Twain has observed about New England weather that: “In the spring, I have counted 136 different kinds of weather inside of 24 hours.”
William Wordsworth, after a walk with his sister, composed a classic poem: “I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud."
I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
Season and weather are inextricably intertwined – and the poets can inspire us and make us appreciate the charm of each month. June heralds the summer. And the hot months have their own peculiar beauty. But if you’re looking for a change of pace on a particularly hot day, give Edgar Allen Poe a chance.
"Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December; And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor."
They get it all in better than any blogger -- in fewer words. I can simply marvel at the beauties of changing nature and life.
