Summer landed here this past week, though you'd be forgiven for thinking we've already had plenty of hot, soupy summer weather notched up here in NEMO and elsewhere in recent weeks. I'm only a little sheepish to say I missed the worst of it last week, spending a few days in Saratoga Springs, New York, visiting with my mother, who was there for a conference, and enjoying perfect mild days not far from where I spent my early years in the lower Hudson Valley. As always, though, I was glad to return to the familiar here at home, regardless of the weather. Ted here with the latest from Dancing Rabbit Ecovillage.

Midsummer's Night has always seemed quite mis-named to me, given that it happens at the very start of summer by the calendar, but I've come to love the magic of it here and anywhere else that fireflies ramp up this time of year. As recently as a week ago, I was feeling quite concerned about the lack of fireflies this year, given how much earlier I thought they'd shown up the past couple of years. Then the magic renewed itself, and these past few nights I've been awed over and over to witness the quiet beauty of these insects' jaw-dropping light shows of biological imperative. Whole galaxies of wee critters all out there seeking and finding each other in the dark... amazing.

One of my favorite start-of-summer rituals these past 15 years or so has been the Red Earth Farms Land Day celebration. This sister community inhabits the 80 acres to our west, and I've always loved having a neighboring hamlet, to access which I never have to set foot on a road, whether on foot, bicycle, skis, or other conveyance. This year Apple hosted the gathering at her homestead, always beautifully groomed and tended, fecund gardens abloom with veggies and inspiration. Carved gourd lanterns and a small bonfire followed a bountiful potluck dinner spread amongst dozens of friends and neighbors, and then as dusk descended, the fireflies and a passing line of thunderstorms contributed their best to yet another Midsummer's Night to remember.

I've been largely absent these past few weeks with a series of trips and stints off-farm, so I'm keenly aware of the ways that others pick up the slack for each other in cooperative settings. Lately Daniel and other Ironweeders have been making repeated forays into the garden to whip it into shape, reclaiming weedy beds and getting them planted for summertime bounty. I've loved my long-term relationship with our little slice of Earth, and still find myself overwhelmed with the to-dos on the garden list every year when my life limits the time I have available to give to it. When other members of the co-op step up and take responsibility for putting the years of garden love to good purpose, I'm grateful beyond words for the care (and produce!) they bring to life.

Similarly, the dairy co-op here is an anchor of the community, drawing together a dozen or more community members in ongoing scenes of mutual cooperation for mutual benefit, not to mention biological diversity and increased self-reliance in the food realm. When I'm present, I usually devote at least a couple of days a week to dairy labor, usually in the cheesemaking realm where a daily session might last eight hours and produce an array of cheeses, yogurts, and other products built on the previous collective labor of milking and general animal tending. When I'm not here, somebody else is doing that work. I've trained many people these past eight years to help preserve our dairy bounty. Most have been work exchangers or interns whose contribution was valuable but of limited duration, whereas the milk keeps coming in daily even if we'd rather have more control over the flow. This spring Jed, another member of both Dancing Rabbit and the dairy co-op, has stepped up in a serious way to process lots of dairy and coordinate the best use of our bounty.

A few weeks ago one of our yearling does gave birth, somewhat unexpectedly and out of phase with the other does, to two boys. I soon learned that Mae and others had decided to name them Ted and Jed, after the two primary cheese makers in the co-op. I've never been honored in such a way before, and felt a little surge of pride to be so when I heard about it upon return from one of my journeys. You can see the two in the picture accompanying this column... I'm not sure which is which!

Our second visitor session of the year yielded a couple new applicants for residency, which is always exciting. Though I was absent for part of the time, I gave a seminar on land use planning in the village while here, and so got to meet the group; later I joined a weekly song circle where it was clear this was a well-aligned group of visitors, knowing some of our regular tunes and bringing others that we also knew. We hope to see more of them again before too long.

Our most recent natural building workshop, led by Alis and Mark, yielded the first part of a new garden border near the village entrance, including a serpentine wall section and an arched entryway with some mosaic finish. Tucked in between an Ecovillage Weekend Experience and the second visitor session, this short program (part of a series over recent years) has brought one great group after another, eager to learn some of the natural building styles on display at Dancing Rabbit. This new installation really improves first impressions of the village.

Now for a bit of Friday night contradancing, called by departing work exchanger River and accompanied by some of our local musicians. But first, a few handfuls of black raspberries!

The season is still young ⎼ if you'd like to learn more about our program offerings, work exchange, and other ways to get involved, check out our website at www.dancingrabbit.org. Happy summer to all of our readers out there! We hope to see you soon.