Good morning from the lakeside deck ~

Ozark Mountains sit between
Appalachian and Rocky Mountains
Up on high Ozark Mountains and Springfield Plateaus
Among Boston and Ouachitas Mountains
Here – where heat waves roam free

We Barrett kids used to go with
Mom and dad on Sunday drives
Over to Eureka Springs, Ozark and Petit Jean in the Ozarks or
Down the Talimena Drive in the Ouachitas
To Poteau, Heavner and Broken Bow

In the dog days of high summer
We would catch daily showers
Up in the mountains
Dark storm clouds would chase us
Over the mountain passes
We knew they wouldn't last long
So we could go back swimming again
Before we would have to go home

We called them
Mountain showers
Car wash showers
Pop up showers
Cooling us down just enough
Building up from the day's afternoon heat
When the mountain showers hit
We could get wet and cool off
Just what God ordered
We knew the storms would be short and Not last long and be a'passing through
On their way to be quickly gone
The clouds would chase the sky
Until the sun went down

Near sunset
We drove back home
Back to the flat oil patch lands
Katy and I
Climbed into the back window seat
Of Dad's 1954 Silver Buick
Laying underneath a clear sky
Full of midnight stars
Knowing we would be back soon
To make another Sunday Ozark Drive


High Summertime

There is something about the Dog Days of Summer that talks about why I love this time. . .

Heat so hot you're driven indoors
by ten o'clock
But you make it outside anyway
To stand underneath an old shade tree
Where cicadas sing and
Crispy brown shells are easily picked off Low hanging branches and
You stay there waiting for a hot breeze
You know it's high summertime

You stand with hot sand
Between your toes
And in your other hand
An iced cold lemonade
While Gramma beads line your neck and
Water drips down your front
Leaving a trail behind
But you really don't mind
Because it feels so good
You know it's high summertime

A hard bright sun bears down on you
And causes sweat to run
You take shelter on your front porch
And make provisions for ice
Ice on trays
Ice wrapped in wet towels and
Laying them on the floor in front of
Two Oscillating fans
Then you ice your feet anyway
You know it's high summertime


Good Morning from the Lakeside Deck

There is nothing like a brand new day
As the sun first rises
It is as gentle as the dawn
Bathing light over the land

Morning sun peeps its head up
And sits for awhile right on top of the mountain ridge
When from across the far cove
Soft pink light dances on mighty limestone bluffs

Sunlight pours out onto the water
Starting its new day's journey
Spreading like rain across the placid lake

Meeting sunlight's warmth
Cold Ozark spring waters flow into Lake Ann
Creating small new waves everywhere
Rising once again at dawn's edge

Nature's abounding beauty
Surrounds me
Pinks become golds
Sunlight meets the world
And become one


Happy Birthday Woody Guthrie ~ from one Okie to Another

If you have never gone to NPR land to listen to the Writers Almanac, do ~ you need to download an app to your phone! I listen to poetry and daily stories about authors, books, historical events, and dare I say ~ a most wonderful start to your day!

From this morning’s Writers Almanac by Garrison Keillor ~

Today is the birthday of Woodrow Wilson – aka “Woody” – Guthrie (books by this author) born in Okemah, Oklahoma (1912).
 Woody Guthrie never finished high school, but he spent his spare time reading books at the local public library. He took occasional jobs as a sign painter and started playing music on a guitar he found in the street. 

During the Dust Bowl in the mid-1930s, Guthrie followed workers who were moving to California. They taught him traditional folk and blues songs, and Guthrie went on to write thousands of his own, including “This Train Is Bound for Glory.” In 1940, he wrote the folk classic “This Land Is Your Land” because he was growing sick of Irving Berlin’s “God Bless America.”

Woody Guthrie once said: “I hate a song that makes you think that you’re not any good. […] Songs that run you down or songs that poke fun at you on account of your bad luck or your hard traveling. I am out to fight those kinds of songs to my very last breath of air and my last drop of blood.

“This Land Is Your Land”
Woody Guthrie

This land is your land, this land is my land
From California to the New York Island
From the Redwood Forest, to the Gulf stream waters
This land was made for you and me

And I went walking that ribbon of highway
And saw above me that endless skyway
I saw below me the golden valley
This land was made for you and me

I roamed and rambled and followed my footsteps
To the sparkling sands of her diamond deserts
And all around met, a voice was sounding
This land was made for you and me

There was a big high wall there that tried to stop me
A sign was painted said: Private Property
But on the back side it didn’t say nothing
This land was made for you and me

When the sun come shining, then I was strolling
In wheat fields waving and dust clouds rolling
The voice was chanting as the fog was lifting
This land was made for you and me

This land is your land, this land is my land
From California to the New York Island
From the Redwood Forest, to the Gulf stream waters
This land was made for you and me

Songwriters: Woody Guthrie
This Land Is Your Land lyrics © T.R.O. Inc.