Summertime

“Summertime,
And the livin’ is easy,
Fish are jumpin’
And the cotton is high—

Your daddy’s rich,
And your mama’s good lookin’,
So hush, little baby,
Don’t you cry.”

Yes, bloggers, summer is high, and de-e-p [sotto voce gone bass and drawn out hypnotically] at this time in the seasonal cycle. Sitting out by my lily pond today at high noon, I couldn’t get a better take on that. Though it’s much cooler than usual at this time of year here in Houston because of the unusual amount of rain we’ve been having, the sun came out strong to bear down on my shade-friendly white shoulders (not that I’m a southern magnolia flowah, but I do have that indoor skin more familiar with the monitor light of my ‘puter), and pull my attention to all the high-life going on before me.

The first thing I noted is my only remaining gold goldfish (since the debacle some of you may remember), who is also the smallest, and clearly now, the only female, was being battered about by my two feisty and richly winged inky-black males. (Actually one of them has a gold mouth and will probably become all gold during his lifetime, as I have seen others do, born inky and invisible in the darker waters.) Anyway, earlier in the day on my tour of the pond, I had seen her, the gold one, lying close to the surface in the shallow watery embrace of a lily pad—quiet, still, and seemingly close to death.

At that time, I left her to her fate, but later, seeing commotion on the pond’s surface from my living room window, I went back outside, and that’s when I became apprised of the chasing and battering. She first would be batted sideways, exposing shiny scales and one eye to the sky, then, as she looped wildly in a dive, would be hit again one way, then another by the two larger males flanking her. The attempted escapes would take her skittering clear across the pond’s surface like a skipping rock, where she would suddenly arrive as if she’d slipped through a worm-hole, but her pursuers would be right upon her before I could catch my breath.

Now, as I sat lazily in the sun, pond-side, I realized (because I’d earlier examined her for any damage) that they were doing their very aggressive mating dance, even though spring’s long gone, and the cooler days of fall have not yet arrived. Then, in grand redundance, I noticed two enormous iridescent blue-bodied dragonflies stuck together as they are when mating, one’s tail inserted at the back of the other’s head, while the latter dips her tail agilely into the water dotting the surface near the lily pads. I began to wonder if the life stream in my back yard had been fooled into re-gearing their bio-rhythms for responding as if the year were further along than it truly is.

Other mating anomalies I noticed this morning were in my morning news feed. A bride in Brooklyn decked in full wedding regalia was found sleeping on the ledge above the door of a Park Slope brownstone (first reported in the July 21st “Brooklyn Paper”. She was awakened and removed by police called to the scene by worried residents, but was speechless except for her “squeal” when officers tried to separate her from her teddy bear purse containing the Tiffany wedding ring. Maybe she had also misjudged the timing?

Whether to attribute these quirky mating rituals to climate change or Venus going retrograde yesterday in Virgo near the cusp of Leo (while Saturn and Neptune continue on the other side of their oppositional dance and are flanked by Mars showing his own sensual and aggressive mating behaviour), remains unclear to me at this juncture. But I won’t bore you bloggers with astrological details you don’t comprehend. I’ll save that for another post that goes to the astrologically acclimated.

Nevertheless, the retrograde period of Venus from now until September the 8th should bring us some time for clear reflection upon our passions of the past, though I don’t expect they will all be recollections of quirky, out-of-time, sad, or aggressive relationships. But do recognize, my friends, they are relationships you are no longer in! And I have to say, the bride-thing just seems so Virgo to me, anyway! (Actually, Virgo does represent the Bride, Bridget/Brigid , before she surrenders her sovereignty into the marriage bond in Libra.) *sigh*
A poem from several years ago seems to fit in here, so I'll insert it:

In the Garden

I am the girl who likes to play
The game of love how e’re I may
There are no rules in love and war
No limits there, no holds to bar

I claim my freedom and my youth
My Victory, my Self, my Truth
In the garden of my Father’s world
I am a carefree, nascent girl

The boy next door whose strong young arms
And body make me feel so warm
Stealthily stretches tight his bow
I watch his muscles roll and flow

And breathlessly I fall in bond
Though he may be of me but fond
While swimming in the waters deep
It’s hard for me my heart to keep

The sparkling bass flash, colors fly,
The sky reflected in my eyes
Has blinded me from deep blue cold
In piercing eyes that are so bold

Oh, Mars and Venus, you are still young
Your Soul’s sweet song has not been sung
In your Mother’s forest play
Grow up to Love another day
December 5, 2004