Words from the Heart

Summer days are getting shorter. The time for harvest will soon be upon us, along with the new school year, and a multitude of holidays. Seems like, this year, summer relaxation was usurped by the craziness of politics and the constant battle to keep peace and hope alive. But, as I sit mid-afternoon, with the sun pouring warmth onto my desktop and the green smell of a garden resplendent in the full bloom brought by warm days with plenty of rain, I am grateful.  Creator of all I see,  hear my thanks. Know that for each blossom I behold,  for each tree I hug, for each blade of grass that gently cups my foot, I give thanks. As the days diminish into autumnal splendor, give me the grace to see the beauty in a garden gone by, bless me with the faith to know that the magic of nature is not always seen, but is always there. Thank you, blessed Gardener, for the turn of the seasons and all they bring to us. 

On this July 4th weekend, I have waxed nostalgic. Thinking of summers past, I decided to share some "summer poems."  Enjoy! Wet Cement   The hellacious heat of summer cooked us  as we sat in the shade of curtained rooms.  The rumblings of thunder could be heard  far away, like an oncoming train that is heard  long before it arrives, rattling into a station.  The air sat heavy on us, except when the fan,  positioned to blow like a zephyr back and forth,  happened to kiss our salt-laden skin.  Suddenly, light exploded outside the window  open to emit the tiniest relief from the building heat.  One by one, they come, loosed from clouds – We peek out the windowed shelter like hunters,  peering through the blind, waiting for the flock to land.  In moments, the streets become alive with the sound of  thousands of tiny fairy feet kissing the scalding concrete. The magic of their dance imme...

  The porch is a great place to just sit on hot summer days. Photo Credit: Roger Rhinehart The first time I heard the phrase, "Lazy, Hazy Days of Summer," I wasn't sure why summer days would be called "lazy," when everywhere there is activity, especially if you live by a river, lake, or the ocean.  But, such are the ideas of a young person. Now as I travel through my 59th summer, I realize that when the temperatures reach over 90 degrees, the body just doesn't want to work.  My mind is saying, "Go weed the garden, then cut the shrubs, then write, then..." but my body is saying, "Whoa there!  We're not doing anything but sit in front of the fan!" All kidding aside, when the temperatures get this high, I think of the thousands of people who have no fan, no relief from the heat.  I think of people who have not experienced high temperatures before and do not know that they must stay hydrated. My heart goes out to the babies, w...

Image by NapaneeGal via Flickr   York Beach at Sunset This past weekend, I had the opportunity to spend the weekend with my daughters. We were creating memories. Now, that isn't so unusual, I realize, but what was unusual was that we ALL got to be together for an afternoon at the beach.  We were creating memories! This is something I haven't had the pleasure of doing with them since they were young.   Our day at the beach was about as perfect as a day at the beach can be.  Just enough clouds kept it from being sweltering.  The Gulf Stream warmed the waters of Southern Maine, unexpectedly, providing a glorious playground for those of us who love the ocean.  The grandchildren kept me entertained with frequent runs down the beach to get wet, then visits to the tide pools, then castle building and back to the water to wash off sand.   My Grandchildren Playing Together Amazing as it may sound, my girls and I all got to swim together.  (Tha...