Are you ready for summer?

Summer Remembrance

Waking up this morning, I see the blue sky.

I join my hands in thanks for the many wonders of life;

For having twenty-four brand new hours.

The sun is rising on the forest and so is my awareness.

I walk across the field of sunflowers.

Tens of thousands of flowers waving at me;

My awareness is like the sunflower;

My hands are sewing seeds for the next harvest.

My ear is hearing the sound of the rising tide on the magnificent sky.

I see clouds approaching with joy from many directions.

I can see the fragrant lotus ponds of my homeland;

I can see coconut trees along the rivers;

I can see rice fields stretch their shoulders

laughing at the sun and the rain.

Mother Earth gives me coriander, basilicum, and celery.

Tomorrow, the hills and mountains of the country will be green again.

Tomorrow, the buds of life will grow quickly;

the folk poetry will be as sweet as the songs of the children.

The whole family of humans will sing together with me in my work.

Thich Nhat Hanh

This weekend, for many of us, marks the beginning of summer.  I thought this poem an appropriate eulogy for ushering summer in because it reminds me of the innocence of childhood.  When I was a child in the 1950’s, summer stretched out before me like a green oasis after the confinement of school and winter and expectations.  I remember long days in the woods damming up creeks, catching crawdads, getting soaked and muddy and not going inside until hunger pains drove me. 

I remember catching whole canning jars full of fireflies, punching holes in the top so they could breathe, and taking them into my room where I could watch their neon lights until I fell asleep.  I remember walking to the library and coming home with an entire shopping bag full of books, reading every one before the two week due date.  Nancy Drew and Hardy Boys were my next door neighbors. 

I remember dogs that lived outside like dogs; nobody worried that they would run away and not come back, and they never did.  They ate what we did and never got bones caught in their throats, though Butch did once get a fishing lure stuck in his muzzle. 

  I remember when God was a simple concept—an ever present, ever loving, kind, generous, caring, wise old man, who could make all things right if I just asked him.

 

I remember falling asleep with the windows open because there was no air conditioning, and listening to the songs of peepers, cicadas, and crickets.  I remember my father’s garden; corn tassels high above my head, luscious ripe tomatoes, hills of yellow squash, and yards of half-runners. 

I remember swimming in the lake with no lifeguard, in shorts and a tee shirt, and staying in the water until my skin shriveled and my lips turned blue.  I remember playing softball with a too-big secondhand glove, no uniform and keds and looking just like everyone else on the team.

 

I remember playing made-up games with my cousins and the neighborhood children without supervision, with no one calling to us, “stay where I can see you.”  We played ‘no bears out tonight’ and ‘gorillas and missionaries’ and ‘cowboys and indians.’ Always running, hiding, competing. 

I wonder whether children today have the same kind of freedom that I did as a child—the long, stress free days of summer, full of potential and opportunity.  I hope so, because the memory of them still gives my heart a lift.  I would love to hear your fondest summer memories.  If you leave them in my comment box, I will post them in my next blog. 

Thanks be to God,  

Jane