June, a lovely month, fair and sunny, a time to be in the garden,
digging the warm soil, swatting flies for more exercise, anticipating
the bounty of summer fruits, flowers and vegetables, all fresh and
colorful. A run on sentence that hints of the run on activities of warm
weather. As a child it seemed to me that literary genres spent so much
descriptive effort on the seasons, wrapping them up in sentimental
drama. Why? I was probably too busy running, swimming, climbing, and
exploring to understand. Now, as an older adult, I feel more in touch
with the near at hand, which includes the warm air on my skin and fresh
in my lungs, the perfumes of the earth, the chirping of a chorus of
birds, and the tastes of many warm berries plucked from a bush.
Likewise a bit of poetry emphasizes my feelings for the season. It must
have been thus for those poets of yester year.
Church activities have slowed, perhaps for the good, so we may
get in touch with the nature about us and revive our spirit in the world
in which God has placed us. Pastor Blaine takes a vacation, and we
welcome Nancy Newlon and Mel Hurst in his place the first two Sundays of
the month. Maybe something will come up the Sunday of Father*s Day,
though I don*t want to spoil any surprise. The dads may be busy in the
fields anyway, and might miss their own party. We shall see, and take
it from there. * It*s summertime (soon), and the livin* is easy**
Marcia Little
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