The Music of a Summer Night

I lean against the railing on the deck with an iced coffee in hand and watch fireflies frolicking through the shrubbery in the garden.

Midsummer has come and gone, and Lammas is only a few days away, but I think of a watercolour (1908) by Robert Edward Hughes called Midsummer Eve. Hughes was acquainted with members of the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood, and their influence on his work shows. In his painting, a young woman stands in a forest clearing, surrounded by a circle of fairies holding softly glowing lanterns. It is night, and the forest behind her is alight with fireflies. There is magic in the air.

In our darkening garden, there are the last cicada raspings of the day and a few crickets are doing their thing - I say "our garden" because it is Beau's garden too, and he loves it. Classical guitar wafts from the speakers on my neighbor's veranda, and a hound around the corner is singing soulfully to the waxing moon. Bats describe perfect circles over our heads, and a light wind blows through the old trees. There is an occasional crackle from the lantern burning on the deck. By rights, a Pan flute or harp should be playing. Perhaps something by the Breton harper, Alain Stivell?

On nights like this, I feel ancient and young at the same time, and I know beyond a doubt that there is a wild, elemental magic at work in the great wide world. I can almost reach out and touch it, and it gladdens this wild old heart.