Flowers somehow mean more when they appear amid the spines of a cactus – maybe because we know how difficult desert survival can be, and to flower indicates a resilience and triumph of spirit and power over circumstance and environment. On my lone visit to the Southwest desert, I remember being blown away by the variety of architectural wonder on display by the cacti and succulents that dared to brave the inhospitable area. Those that managed to flower – the prickly pears and a few saguaros – were emblematic of hope and beauty defiantly existing in a world of desolation. Whenever I see a cactus in bloom, I’m humbled and awed, and it’s a good lesson and reminder of survival and strength – pink prettiness too in the case of this precious guy.
This cover of Neil Young’s ‘Heart of Gold’ fits smoothly into our Solid Gold Summer with renewed fervor and passion, the way you can slide into things easier when they are hot and wet. Its lyrics speak more deeply to finding meaning in life, the advance of age, and the inevitable march of time. We are all at its mercy, and it isn’t very merciful. So we listen and we sing and we dance, and summer takes one more step forward without looking back.
I want to live (I want to live), I want to give (I want to give) I’ve been a miner for a heart of gold (for a heart of gold) All these expressions (all these expressions) I never give (I never give) That keeps me searching for a heart of gold And I’m getting old
I want to live, I want to give I’ve been a miner for a heart of gold All these expressions I never give That keep me searching for a heart of gold And I’m getting old
Hope rides highest on a solid song, as if music is the only way of truly expressing the human ache and soul. Some of my best posts, in my questionable opinion, are inspired and rooted in musical memories, and this Solid Gold Summer embodies that, eclectic selections and all. When the chapter of this summer is finally written (we are only about halfway through it) the songs will one day remind me of all that went down. Not sure I’m ready for that, but I’m never ready for summer to end.
I’ve been to Hollywood, I’ve been to Redwood I crossed the ocean for a heart of gold I’ve been in my mind, it’s such a fine line That keeps me searching for a heart of gold And I’m getting old
A promise is something I take very seriously, so here is the fulfillment of the promise to let you know how this hibiscus bouquet turned out. As expected, the flower lasted about the same length as it would in its typical outside environs – perhaps maybe going a little longer without any direct sun and wind to zap its energy and cellular structure. Eventually though, within the second day, the petals wilted, and it began shriveling up to the point where it shrunk back inside its vase.
(Of course, I totally took it because I don’t fuck with shingles – I’ve heard of too many younger people getting it, and it sounds truly terrible.)
So this is me at my annual doctor’s check-up, pre-shingles shot #1 and pre-bloodwork, because on this day I will be poked more than all my spring breaks combined. The “gown” doesn’t match my underwear, which is upsetting. Not sure which is more awful.
Now that the sun has tinged me with some color, and I’ve decided not to throw in the towel for this summer, a second wind arrives to lift my sails and carry us through the rest of the golden season. A summer rescue mission, if you will, to save and salvage the hefty chunk of sun and heat that remains possible – still present to burn and astound.
This sort of mid-to-late season epiphany is usually reserved for a Scrooge-like redemption scene nearer to the holidays, but there’s room for salvation at any time of the year, should one’s heart be ready and open. Summer is made for second chances, for getting back up after you’ve been knocked down – by a rainstorm, by a wind gust, by the general battering of life at this particularly problematic point in time. It’s an opportunity to try again, without rush, without hurry – because while summer never lasts quite as long as we’d like, it always lasts longer than we think it does.
That means there’s still time to turn things around – and a decent amount of time at that. Summer is the promise of spring fulfilled; promises do not always deliver the way we anticipate – that whole ‘careful what you wish for’ thing rearing its tricky, infuriating head. (Hard to find good head these days, as you know better than me.)
Wistful longing coupled with bittersweet glimmers of regret, summer vacillates in the night, unable or simply refusing to choose which way to turn or how to feel. Ambivalent, suspect, wary – summer nights burn unbearably hot and humid or ruinously cold and clammy, portending autumn in the air. Often it all depends on the mood whether one feels cool or warm, the way one’s interior or mindset establishes the tone of any given moment – so much of life being about perspective. A throwback song to the days when Enya reigned, lending a more somber feel to our Solid Gold Summer, both gold and summer cutting multiple ways and lending themselves to multiple readings.
Now you can see Spring becomes autumn, Leaves become gold falling from view. Ever and always, always and ever. No-one can promise a dream come true, Time gave both darkness and dreams to you.
In the case of this song, a certain sense of regret pervades the proceedings, tempered by a certain sense of acceptance. Resignation and reconciliation are two different things – one is acceptance without peace or closure, one is acceptance emboldened by a certain sense of forgiveness.
Hinting at something deeper, there is a preciousness at play here – an indication that a golden moment has come and gone, or a gift has been given up or left behind. The heart only learns and yearns until after the fact, after it’s too late. Time is always the most dangerous element to everything, especially those sweet and tender moments we most want to last. Golden time is heartbreakingly fleeting, but we go for the gold because it’s so damn wonderful – no matter the cost.
What is the dark; Shadows around you, Why not take heart in the new day? Ever and always, always and ever. No-one can promise a dream for you, Time gave both darkness and dreams to you.
The origin of those sassy horny-horn blasts in Madonna’s ‘Vogue’, this is ‘Ooh I Love It (Love Break)’ by The Salsoul Orchestra, which aligns us back on our Solid Gold Summer journey, following a recent Egyptian excursion. Things have decidedly changed, however, and this Solid Gold Summer is melting itself into something different – a new form, perhaps revealing that all is not just gilded pleasure and superficial shine. It changes the original trajectory of where I thought this summer was headed, and in today’s climate you have to be willing to evolve and roll with the punches – that’s survival. I thought that we were going to pull back the mask of golden splendor, uncovering the empty and false interior of an entity only cloaked in gold, with nothing solid or substantial about it. I guess I’ve always sort of thought of myself that way, but it turns out I do have some gold within, and a pretty decent amount of it. It just needed a little melting and reworking to realize its worth, and I’ve very much had that this sultry summer (whether I wanted it or not).
To that end I am revving up and returning to the sparkle and pizzazz that has always been on display here, only now it comes with a more sturdy and secure base – a solid gold realization that took most of spring and summer to discover at this mid-to-late stage of the game. Empowerment sometimes happens when you are just trying to get through a difficult stretch of days, and it’s somehow more potent when you don’t even realizing you’re doing it.
What does that mean for the final half of summer that stretches out before us? A bit more of the golden glamour that was initially promised, a promise that part of me was ready to let go in a few moments of doubt and despair. Fuck all of that, fuck any who fail to realize our value, and fuck all those who assume there is nothing solid beneath the sparkling veneer. There is more dancing to be done, more divas to be adored, and more gold to be polished before August slips away, so strike a pose because there is very much something to it.
Nicholas Galitzine has been a Dazzler of the Day already, so this is just a bonus post, to go along with this gratuitous bonus post previously posted. I’ve been enjoying the latest version of ‘Masters of the Universe’ as the fun, slightly-campy, and solidly-entertaining jaunt that it was intended to be. Fans of the original cartoon series (like any proper child of the 80’s should be) will find lots to love about this reverential treatment, and Galitzine makes for a remarkably poignant Adam/He-Man. Check out his pumptitude in greater detail here.
These photos were taken minutes after I clipped the flower and put it into its vase, so I can’t verify whether hibiscus blooms make for decent cut flowers or not – they usually only last a little more than a day – their show bolstered by numbers rather than duration, not unlike the daylily.
For a dinner party that only lasts an evening, however, this may make for a stunning centerpiece – I’ll let you know how quickly it wilts in a future post.
The overabundance of rain we’ve had in the past week has prolonged the freshness of the garden, which is usually dry and brown and beginning the fateful turn to fall at about this time. That has yet to happen, and so our summer elongates with blooms bright and showy, and foliage that remains green and vibrant. What a treat to be in this area at this particular time, and what a treat the garden in summer always is. Here we have some echinacea in what can only be described as the color of an August sunset.
These beauties were on display at the local nursery – I don’t have the space for any more perennials at the moment. Well, a few could be squeezed in I suppose, but I’m making room for Montauk daisies and I didn’t have Echinacea in the plans, so another year will pass before I begin entertaining that. Yes, I plan that far ahead. It’s why Virgos have their shit together.
We hosted friends for dinner last night, and then later this month, nearer my birthday, we’ll have Ann and Missy over for a weekend of Virgo fun and hilarity. To both ends, a bit of greenery is required to cheer up the indoor summer spaces, and I find a single branch, when large enough, makes for a big impact. In this case, some of the remnants of a pruned Coral Bark Maple provide a lush verdant backdrop for the attic loft. Summer is the best time to bring some of the outdoors inside, and this beautifully blurs the lines between the two.
Processing these last weeks of my 50th year hasn’t been as simple or easy as the bulk of this year had led me to believe – in fact, I’m still in a slight state of shock as to how suddenly and overwhelmingly I feel the rush of time, as well as how those who come into and out of our lives can do so in such swift and cruel motion. Maybe it’s the anniversary of Dad’s death, the approach of my own 51st, or the hints of fall that carried on the wind and rain during the recent deluges. Whichever the case, something has me emotionally spooked and mentally disturbed – definitely a more fitting feeling for fall than this last full month of summer.
August used to be such a treat, culminating with my birthday, often a full-day destination event no matter the day of the week, it still being summer. This year, like many years of late, I don’t find the same excitement or thrill in a birthday – at the time of this writing I haven’t even sent out a wish list (which, when you truly think about it, is the opposite of high-maintenance but I digress). Maybe this is the mark of finally growing up – you give up the stupid shit that brought your childhood self such silly joy. Or maybe I’m just lowering expectations so my birthday stands a chance of not disappointing. I won’t hurt people by regaling you with episodes to support that statement.
Oh dear – is August about to get messy? Stick around and find out – I’d just about made my mind up to throw this summer out with the baby and the bathwater, but let’s see if I have some sultry sass still in me…
Meanwhile, wildflowers are showing off this brilliant color – in the thistles and loosestrife – a reminder that August has only just begun her show…
