I love summer.

Especially when it takes over from spring with a soft, kind gesture that's only to felt in the wind and to be seen in the deepening colours.
There is always a certain hesitation to leave spring, as the summer carries many unexpected surprises.
This year (2004), summer seemed to be like the beach.
It was hidden in the spring, and there were mornings that had the sounds of spring, and the feel of summer, and then again, it was cold at awakening and it took till lunch before summer understood she should be there.

It was amazing that there weren't as many bugs as other years. Some sorts I found when I turned old wood, and then I saw hundreds flee under dark branches. Like they were more afraid of the sun as other years.
And there were many catterpillars.
So many that we had to cut the old appletree short. And even when it had leaves on the new branches again, the catterpillars found it. Completely out of time.
Amazing!

We had a heatwave. With the warmest nights ever measured.
And we had beautiful full moons... and I even saw a falling star, as beautiful I've never seen before.

The flowers sure loved this year. They kept colouring the garden. Even more amazing: the young appletrees flowered twice!

I loved walking in to the garden at the early mornings, when people were still asleep, and smell the roses.
The strong overwhelming smell of the dogroses, remembering me of the little perfume set my aunt sent from england when I was about 6 or 7.
And the warm light smell of the red roses, that touched the heart and then faded quickly.
And oh... the honeysuckle, that flowered months at length, and were such a welcome when I entered the garden, regardless if it was morning or dark night.

And while I enjoyed the changes every day, the season passed, the colours grew darker, and the berried grew red.

And so we had our summer harvest: loads of red berries, brambles and apples from the neighbouring tree.

Untill the evenings came earlier, and the wide sounds disappeared leaving only late evening mumbling of the people in the gardens around us, drinking a last glass of wine.

The honeysuckle has berries now, and they're growing bigger and bigger.
Between the branches of the trees, I see other unknown branches, carring some fruits. Maybe of a passionflower that was once planted in the neighbouring garden.
The fruits are swelling and soon they'll fall down, leaving the first footprints of autumn.

Thank you Inger for this lovely gift!