Sleepy Sunday

Belfast, Maine on a sleepy Sunday.
 Perfect weather- warm, windy
and sky alive with billowy clouds.
Water salty and warm enough to wade
while looking for sea glass and heart-shaped rocks.
Salt air cleansing the lungs
and blue and green restoring my thoughts.
Gratefulness! 

Summer Song

I found this newspaper clipping in an old book I was planning to donate to the library book sale. I was amazed that newspapers printed stories about children at play. I remember the day well. It was a typical Maine summer day. There were no video games then, and it was a punishment to stay inside (TV was not an option!).

It was a time when it was still safe to roam the neighborhood and come up with our own entertainment from early morning until lunch, and then we were off again until dusk. I imagine a newspaper photographer driving around our sleepy suburb looking for a story about how people were enjoying the gorgeous day, or  maybe he or she was hoping for some real news to get the first scoop on. Anyway, I was happy to find the clipping because it is proof that I was lucky enough enough to have had the kind of childhood where singing with my sisters was news-worthy!

Swinging a Birch in Spring!

"I'd like to go by climbing a birch tree And climb black branches up a snow-white trunk Toward heaven, till the tree could bear no more, But dipped its top and set me down again. That would be good both going and coming back. One could do worse than be a swinger of birches." - Robert Lee Frost- from 'Birches'.

If you have never "swung a birch", it is something to try at least once in your lifetime. In Spring, Maine birch trees are pliable and if you can figure out how to get up a fairly sturdy one, and can get up past the part where the tree begins to bend naturally, you can hold on, and then be gently brought back to Earth. It is probably like the way a parachute feels, though the closest I have ever gotten to that was on the parachute ride at Knott's Berry Farm. So I can't say for sure if the feeling of swinging a birch is the same as the feeling of floating in a parachute. What Robert Frost and I have in common is that we both have felt a birch tree gently bring us from sky to sod.

In my youth, I swung birches every Spring. It has been a long while since those carefree, barefoot days, but I remember the exhilaration well. Like I was Mary Poppins with my umbrella or something.

Seaside Solitude

Saturday was a day of much needed solitude. I spent the morning at the shore. Bird tracks spelled out a secret message.  

A lobsterman returned with his early morning's catch.

                                                            I sat quietly for a long time just listening

                                                          to the gulls and the waves and                          the sound of children laughing in the distance.

It was a pleasant surprise to discover that the early Spring water was not cold enough to numb my feet!

Lilacs!

" I opened the large central window of my office room to its full on the fine early May morning. Then I stood for a few moments, breathing in the soft, warm air that was charged with the scent of white lilacs below."
-Angus Wilson

It is time now for me to enjoy my lilacs!
Such a short, sweet time when they are in bloom, and this year with the crazy weather, I wasn't sure when they would be ready. But, alas! They were ready for cutting on Mother's Day! So, I woke up early and went out to check on them and it made me so happy to bring them in to my table. The scent of lilacs is like nothing else!   

I am a simple girl.
 Easy to make blissfully happy
 with a bouquet of lilacs!
 I smile at the very thought of them,
and wait for them to bloom like kids wait for Christmas!
 I remember one year I returned to
a summer beach cottage rental to find
vases filled with lilacs in every room!
The aroma was amazing!
It was the welcome home gift from my sister,
 and no trinket from Tiffanys
 would have brought
the same joy!  

Lake Thoughts

Water, thou hast no taste, no color, no odor; canst not be defined, art relished while ever
    mysterious. Not necessary to life, but rather life itself, thou fillest us with a
    gratification that exceeds the delight of the senses.
        -   Antoine de Saint-Exupery

It is a remarkable thing to be able to walk to the lake whenever I want! 

I try not to take it for granted, and yet, I have only visited this lovely place a few times in the month or so 

since I have been home. 

I love the way the wind constantly changes the surface of the lake and that the shadows reveal 

patterns and hidden treasures just beneath the surface. The trees that take root so close to the shore,

 the stones made smooth by the constant moving. Buds form on the edge of the twigs, full of hope.

 I love the tangle and twist of the roots-the chaos is magnificant!  

Grateful Grandmother





Fourteen years ago today, this boy in the tree made me a grandmother. I was smitten with him the first time I saw him. He was one month old-aware, alert, waving his little fist in the air and sleeping with one eye open.

As a young child, he had a solid sense of self-sure of who he was. When a grandfather who, in frustration at glass breaking, called him an idiot, this toddler stood up to his grandfather, hands on hips and said clearly "I am not an idiot! I am just a little boy who made a mistake!" Whew! The repentant grandfather knew then that he was not dealing with an ordinary boy. 

This child, young boy, and now young man has faced obstacles that few other boys have. And yet, he is thoughtful, intelligent, and determined to always do his best. He is a loving older brother, a gentle son, and a precious grandson. I am grateful to be related to him, thankful for all that he has taught me, and today I wish him all good things in life!