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I arrived a little late to the party—the party of the B-52's summer classic, "Cosmic Thing." In June of 1990, I had just graduated Madison Area Technical college with a commercial art degree. I was saving up dough to head out West and explore my possibilities in California. In the backroom of the small custom frame shop while measuring and precision-cutting mounting board, I rifled through the store owner's CD stash to inspire me while I worked. The bright, inviting colors of "Cosmic Thing" immediately caught my eye, and I already knew I dug the B-52's. From then on, I was hooked. It is the quintessential hot season record, where every single song on the album is a must-listen to.

My partner and I recently acquired a mint condition vinyl of it, and I have to say, these songs stand the test of time. From the title track encouraging you to "shake your honey buns," to the zen utopian ballad of "Topaz," you do indeed feel compelled to shake it and sing along. The dystopian panic of, "Channel Z," still feels incredibly pertinent today, compellingly shouted/sung by frontman Fred Schneider. The harmonies of Kate Pierson and Cindy Wilson have never sounded more lovely, and drummer Keith Strickland really stepped up to help write most of this amazing tuneage.

Be determined.
Hold your ground.
Set firm boundaries. 
Be sharp when necessary.
Be sweet when you can be.
Bloom proudly,
or quietly,
it is up to you.
Have fortitude of skin
and tenacity of reach.
Don’t give up.
Mind the edges.
Wait for the right time.
Focus on the task at hand.
Be diligent in seeking opportunity.
Listen to the shadows and the wind.
Celebrate both rain and sun.
Keep company with those
who tend to the thriving of things.
Be patient.
Trust the ripening.

Warmer summer weather makes it possible to have more bare skin without freezing to death. Living in the UK (and not having great circulation) I feel the cold and I spend much of the year covered up. With more skin exposed, I am acutely aware of sun, wind, rain, shade, temperature changes and so forth. I’ve had some intense personal encounters with brambles and stinging nettles this summer and, as usual, blood sucking insects find my bare skin really appetising. Bare skin increases my sense of connection with the natural world.

It’s good to be able to uncover my body without fear of having that sexualised. This is part of why I think it’s so important to deliberately celebrate our bodies, making a clear statement of the joyful innocence that bare skin can also signify. We should not be reading sexual possibility into bodies that happen not to be heavily clothed. We should not be imposing desire on other people’s skin.

“Do not forget that it is summer. Have you slowed down, taken days or weeks of vacation, let the air have access to your body, explored nature, or let your toes out of your shoes?

It’s not too late.”

This is the time of year when I see most insects. Dragonflies, damsel flies and demoiselle flies over the water. Hungry, blood-seeking insects at twilight. There have been unidentifiable red moths (too fast, too far away). I’ve seen my first stripy caterpillars – who will grow up to be cinnabar moths. I’ve rescued various other caterpillars I couldn’t identify, I’ve put bees safely onto flowers, and got out of the way of passing beetles. It’s busy out there.

Of all the native wild things, insects are the ones I have the most trouble identifying. There’s so many of them. I can identify a grasshopper, but not which kind of grasshopper it is – and there are many. I can only reliably identify a couple of bee species. I know a handful of beetles and the rest are little scuttling mysteries. I have some idea about butterflies, am rubbish at moths, and have no clue about flies. I try to learn a few new names every year but at this rate I will remain embarrassed by my ignorance for the rest of my life.

According to the internet, ‘one swallow does not a summer make’ is a quote that can be attributed to Aristotle. The connection between summer and swallows is clearly a longstanding one. British swallows winter in South Africa. Or, arguably, South African swallows come to the UK to breed. There are many other birds whose migration to the UK at this time of year is part of the coming of summer.

Swifts, swallows and house martins aren’t always easy to tell apart in flight, and at twilight when they hunt for insects, telling them apart from bats can also be tricky. It’s the way the hunter is obliged to follow their prey through the air that means insect eating birds and bats are similar. There’s a rather (accidentally) amusing poem by D.H. Lawrence in which the poet is rather upset that his birds turn out to be bats. You can read that here - https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/44574/bat