It's July 1st 2008, so it's appropriate to talk about dividing lines. The year is half over -- can you believe that?
I submitted my grades online by 11:54 this morning. Plenty of time before the Noon deadline from the Registrar's Office. (grin) So except for people collecting papers and trying to change grades, my 49th semester of teaching is history. Actually this is now Summer-II Session, which is Semester 49.5, but I don't have any classes for this 7-1/2 weeks. Time to get some writing done.
Of course this fall, as I hit my 50th year and my 50th semester of teaching... I still don't have a contract yet. This happens as a part-timer, especially as the university and state budgets haven't been settled, even though it is now the first day of the 2009 Fiscal Year. I could have a one-year full-time teaching position, or I might have nothing for the fall and perhaps two classes for the spring. In other words, I might be talking an involuntary "sabbatical" in Fall 2008. That wouldn't necessarily be so bad, not at today's gas prices, since I don't actually make any money teaching, you see.
So July 1st as a dividing terminator line indeed. (double-jeopardy-grin)
An Embarrassment of Riches
Despite rumors to the contrary, the start of the West Michigan bounty of fruit harvests have been pretty good. We've been eating strawberries for about two weeks now. It took most of a week before we even got to strawberry shortcake, not taking the time to make the shortcakes but just stuffing the strawberries on quality vanilla bean ice cream. Yum. Even had a strawberry crisp Saturday night at a lovely dinner at Butch's in Holland MI, served with a vanilla bean gelato and bit of real whipped cream.
Today at lunch Mrs. Dr. Phil presented me with some dark cherries from a farm near Nunica MI. Growing up in western New York State in the Niagara fruit belt, we had family friends who owned a large cherry orchard. Dark red, nearly black fresh-picked cherries, both sweet and tart at the same time. The ones today were like that.
The local farmer's market had raspberries, too, first of the season, but Mrs. Dr. Phil waited on those. Fresh raspberries, warm on a hot day, with their funny slightly dry skins with the fine little hairs, need to be savored on their own terms.