Category: Summer

I stand in peace

In equality I find our call
In freedom I find our valor
In diversity I find our strength

I stand in love

Today, I was greeted by a friend with her daily message of hope and loved her message of Letting Go . . . and Letting God. I hold this prayer today.

I have written about Arkansas Rain many time before trying to capture the beauty and the feelings it conjures up deep inside me, stirring the heart. Somewhere, somehow to me it resounds the gentleness of life and how we are all connected to this sacred earth and how precious this world really is.

This morning I awoke to the sounds of my Arkansas rain! This type of rain doesn’t come very often, this gentle rain, but when it does, I hope you will recognize it.

MY ARKANSAS RAIN
Once again
It’s barely raining
This Arkansas gentle
Sheltering rain

Rain drops
Falling from leaf to leaf
Fully
And covering all of God’s green earth

Even you
As you hold out your hands
Rain begins to fall
Into the cup of your hand
And then slips through your finger tips

Oh so, gentle
And soothing
Like time held close
And then leaving
As a friend

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

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

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

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
Lyrics

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.

Sit still
And wait in the gentle silence
Of morning
Come into the light of day
Feel the warmth of God’s light
His spirit
In you and
In the world around you

Thunderstorms went through
We are like a mighty tree
Rain drops slip from leaves
#Haiku

The bluebirds are out and about
Visting and singing their morning songs
With singular delight

I submerge myself into my day
Feeling the warmth of summer
And heavy moist air surrounds me
Holding me deeply close
Held here at this very moment
Then taken to another place
Offering ~
Lake Ann’s waters flow in gentle waves
Reaching the shore lines
Yet the summer air is still & calm
Time moves on

The miracle of this world
Is that we do get a new morning
Each of our days

Good morning from the traveling lakeside deck ~ 46 degrees!

Out & about on Lake Ann ~ Thank you God for this beautiful morning!

My writing ~
Taking in the cold morning mist
Rising over Lake Ann’s autumn waters
So full of Ozark sights & sounds
Blue sky & clean mountain air

Looking to see
That marvelous circling splash
Right below the dock

Out wondering
A Blue Heron & Kingfisher
Perch over the water & fly into a tree
I wonder if they are doing the same
Finding the glory in your name