Long days, but now getting shorter
Many hot (and humid) days
And some warm evenings
Sometime gentle breezes with
A whiff of honeysuckle or roses
Lightning bugs (fireflies)
Flittering and flying about
Sometime stars (depending on light pollution)
Moments of reflection
About the day past
Or the morrow to come
And then to sleep
And perhaps to dream
Summertime
It’s the fresh air of the morning
And the warm rays of the sun
They really get you goin’ good
And push til day is done
When the shadows come a sneakin’
And bringin’ on the dark
You hear the chirpin’ crickets
And the trillin’ of the lark
The fireflies light up the evenin’
Overhead the stars are bright
Old moon shows off it’s big ol’ face
And shines throughout the night.
Copyright 2008
The little boy’s day began as many spring days do, with bright sunshine and a cloudless azure sky devoid of anything manmade to spoil the perfection.
But right after breakfast the wind kicked up and the clouds came. More and more. Until the sky was filled and the sunlight snuffed out like a giant candle’s flame.
Under the steel grey sky the natural green of the new grass lost its sharp edge of color. The lights of the flowers were dimmed, the bright hues growing ever darker. The sky grew blacker, casting a pall over the limited world the little boy could see as he ran from one window to another.
“Is it going to rain, Mom?”
His mother, knowing how much he wanted to ride his new bicycle, nodded.
“Yes. In fact, it’s already started. You can hear the raindrops on the roof.”
The little boy went to his bedroom and looked out the window, cringing as he heard a clap of thunder. He sat down next to his bed. His faithful black and white dog, Rowdy, plopped down next to him
The boy petted Rowdy and talked to him, telling him of his disappointment. Rowdy wagged his tail; he understood. The boy’s head drooped as he snuggled next to his friend. In seconds both were asleep.
When the boy awoke, he rubbed his eyes and gazed upward, toward the window. Sunlight was streaming into the room, reflecting off the mirror on the back of the bedroom door and filling the room with glorious light.
Wouldn’t it be nice if we all could sleep through the dark days of our lives?
Yeah, I know, it’s only the 13th of March and the calendar says spring is still a week away and March isn’t over and April in Indiana has not always been kind, sometimes bringing us some snow along with the rain, but when I was outside in the back yard with Cutter about lunch time, I looked at the sky, listened to the birds in the trees (saw a red-headed woodpecker–hadn’t seen one for a long time), and walked around on the mostly brown grass with the warm breeze on my face and I decided it was time for a bit of yard work.
So I spent about two hours moving landscaping stones, expanding the area around one of the maple trees that is partly inhabited by a spreading ground cover. A few years ago, I began creating mulched areas around the two maples in the front yard and the one in the back yard. The grass wasn’t doing all that well where the tree roots were just below the surface. Not only did the red-cedar mulch improve the looks of the yards, but all that covered square footage was square footage I didn’t ever have to mow again. Yeah, that was the plan all along!
After I had came back inside, Cutter, who had watched me work for a while, reminded me that we really should go for a walk. So, we did.
And now, as I peck away at the keys, I’m keeping a eye on the TV to my right and watching the guys play the first round of the Arnold Palmer Invitational golf tournament at Bay Hill, near Orlando. All those acres of green grass look great. Hereabouts, I’m going to give the weather a few more days before I haul out the clubs and unleash myself to flail away at the little white ball. I mean, I’ve waited since the second of last November so a few more days won’t kill me.
So, no matter what weather the rest of March brings, or April, as far as I’m concerned spring is here. So what if we have a bit more inclement weather before warmth is here to stay. I’ll do what I’ve done all winter, stay inside and stay warm and busy.
The photo is one of many of Cutter, a Border Collie, who came from a rescue near Lexington, Kentucky, when he was a few months old. He is seven now and has been a wonderful friend. Some Border Collies are working dogs, some are more campanion dogs. Cutter is a companion dog. His favorite activities are walking and playing catch.
Early on, we would play and he would go, go , go until he would flop down, telling me it was time to quit. But since the end of May, 2005, when he went down during the night and couldn’t get up and was a short time later diagnosed as having Addison’s Disease, our play times have been much shorter.
His adrenal glands don’t function and he is on a daily dose of cortisone, with supplemental prednisone every third day. Cutter is susceptible to stress from heat, exertion, and noise and commotion. I care for him and try to protect him without treating him like an invalid, which he isn’t. In fact, if you didn’t know of his disease, you probably wouldn’t be able to tell.
Cutter is my true friend. If you could meet him, he would most likely be your friend, too.
Went to the optometrist this morning for my annual exam. The good news is that my right eye has again improved, while the left eye seems content to hold down the status quo and just go along for the ride. Any improvement for any reason is welcome. I had been considering getting new glasses so I would have a spare in case I ever needed them. The change in prescription was added justification for getting new lenses.
But I didn’t get new frames. My old one from before my current one was judged OK by the optician and, because I’m not much concerned with style or esthetics, reusing the old one suits me fine. Especially seeing the price increase of new frames since I got my current one three years ago.
Old frames, new lenses, same old eyes. In a week or so, I’ll switch glasses and then have to get used to seeing them reflected in the mirror. And it will be nice to have a backup pair. When a person is as nearsighted as I am, it’s good to have a Plan B. But with old lenses or new I can say “see you later,” and then be able to do it.
Uh, huh, and today is both. I’m trying to remember what yesterday’s sunshine was like and keep that memory alive. But since I’m don’t have to work in the rain like cops, firefighters, and construction workers, I’m thankful. I’m also thankful I can see the rain, and hear it pitty patting on the roof, and feel it when I stick my head out to look at the maple trees–full of buds–just aching to sprout some leaves.
So, here I sit, thinking about helios and waiting for the Spring that is just around the corner, and, of course, knowing that warm weather means lots of yard work; but that topic is for another day.
This is the beginning of a blog of assorted bytes of things and stuff that come to mind and are fit to print. The two posts below this one sprang to life on another site and were impoted so they wouldn’t be lost. They aren’t all that earth-shaking as posts go but I didn’t want to have to rekey them. So, hello and come along for the ride.
When I woke up this morning sunlight was streaming through the window blinds and I thought for a moment I was somewhere other than home in Indiana. Real sunshine, two mornings in a row. Of course, it’s still winter and by mid morning the sky had turned overcast, gray, the color of dirty aluminum.
Most all the recent snow is gone, but it’s still too cold for golf. At least for me. Fifty to fifty-five degrees is my minimum. You might see some out in coats and cold-weather accessories, but not me. It’s a plain case of preventing pulled muscles and other complications. Besides, advances in clothing notwithstanding, trying to swing a golf club while dressed in several layers of cotton, nylon, and polyester isn’t my idea of fun.
And speaking of golf, if you can’t tell by looking at the mini photo, I’ll point out that the fluffy thing I’m holding is a Kansas University Jayhawk head cover for my driver, which I’m maybe not-so-patiently waiting to get out and use. But I can wait. Just a bit of sunshine, a hint of blue sky, and a thermometer reading of the above-mentioned figures. That’s what I’m waiting for.
Meanwhile, I’ll stay busy working on several writing projects. And, come the end of March in Indiana, we’ll see about the old saw: “March, in like a lamb, out like a lion.”
