Waiting for Summer 2009

Sand and surf at the ready for the arrival of Summer 2009

On a gray, cool overcast June 2nd, the Lighthouse at the Harbor into Michigan City stands tall and silent as it awaits the riotous days of boaters, water skiers and swimmers.

Pleasure craft moored in the Washington Park Marina are also waiting to the days of Summer while a lone Seagull seems to be looking for the direction to  the nearest food supply.    

The air temperature on this cool June day never reached 65 degrees. With only 12 weeks for a ‘Summer Tourist Season’, warmer temps need to arrive soon and stay a spell.

For us locals, this is still one of the most beautiful sights God has blessed us with.  This quiet time allows us to enjoy this blessing to it’s fullest.

Blessings

Signs that the long Sleep of Winter is over.

Life returns to a slumbering earth.

Those in love begin to think of wedding bells

The first signs that the warmth of Summer is just around the bend.

From the first glimpse of Poppy buds, my heart seems to pump just a little faster. I know that soon the Rice Paper like petals will soon blaze their Orange glow across the edge of our lawn.

For weeks I have not allowed anyone near the tender shoots with weed choppers or mowers for fear of losing the beauty about to be born here and having to wait another 365 days.

Oddly there are no imperfect blooms. Just the glowing orange red with the deep purple eyes greeting the warm Sun of Spring. Sadly it seems I am not the only one who waits for this Heavenly display each Spring. As I try to daily chronicle the progress of each bud to bloom, with hopes that they will form seed pods to insure next year field of splendor, I notice large holes where entire plant has either been ripped or dug from their home.

To whom ever is in such dire need of this Gift from God, they have a surprise as these flowers can not be transplanted and  grow only from the sowing of their seeds. I doubt that they , whom ever they are, will even read this much less any thing to learn about Poppies.

So I will try yet again, as God will allow, to wait until next Spring to count His blessings in my field of Orange.

God's Sanctuary

I love Summer Sundays! Well, early mornings of Summer Sundays.

That time just after sunrise and before the city awakes. When there is still the quiet, broken only by birds in praise of the day. No car horns, cell phones or human voices to distract from the cathedral like grandeur of my surroundings.

I love sharing this time with my pug, AJ, on the first walk of the day. As he stops to inspect his territory for assurance no breach had been made, I can converse with my Creator as I thank Him and His angels for safely bringing me and all those that I love safe through the night, only to present me with this gift of creation, a new day.

As AJ wanders from patch to patch, I can see the bees collecting their early morning pollen and a caterpillar softly nibble at a succulent leave, storing up energy for the soon transforming process to butterfly.

Here there is only my thoughts melding with my Creator's as I affirm that this is all good. I can take time to enjoy the hosts of choirs singing praises to the Lord.

Yes, there is something so special about Summer Sunday mornings when you can feel the true greatness of God, in the sanctuary He has made.

Summer Sounds Remembered

I love the sounds of summer. From the quite pre-dawn calls of the woodland birds to the mid-day clamor of youngsters at play. There is just something different about Summer Sounds.

Weekends that begin with the swoosh and swash of a push lawn mower, or the zroooming of a power mower that continue with the spit -spat of the sprinkler set to encourage the next weeks growth, lend to the ear a different meaning of life.

Time seems to hang, almost suspended and surreal, as you hear the clink and clank of swings and the giggles of youngsters as they spray themselves and each other with the cold relief of a garden hose.

As evening approaches there come the tingling sound of bells, mixed with calliope music that grows ever louder and then the gleeful shrill, "The Ice Cream Man," resounding a call of attack from every yard for blocks.

There is that quite time just as the stars of Summer begin to dot a darkening sky, then the soft coo of a dove calling to her mate to return home for the night. Silence that is broken by the distant song of a far off train carrying people and produce to far away dreamed of destinations.

These are the Summer Sounds memory has held for dreams.

It's Summer

Summer Dunes

At last the time most of us dream of nearly nine months of the year!!!

It's Summer!!!!