SUMMER 2008The dogwoods are in bloom in my front yard. The weeping cherry is now more leaves than flowers. By the time you read this, the weeping cherry will be all leaves and round green fruit, and the dogwood blossoms will be gone. Strawberries will be ripe and ready for making into delicious pies and shortcakes, for slicing and using as topping for our cereals and pancakes, for blending with sugar and canning for winter syrups and smoothies. Radishes will be already harvested, lettuce will be at its perfect texture and taste, and tomato plants will already be in the ground.
The seasons keep turning: perfection of spring, with its tulips, lavender plants, and watercress, moves toward perfection of summer, with hot lazy days, cucumber sandwiches, and iced tea. Summer, in turn, will become the perfection of autumn, with its abundance of black walnuts and pumpkins, its glory of red and golden leaves.
I am in love with nature: with the grass that folds under my bare feet, with the honeybees and butterflies dancing among the dandelions and the daisies, with the snapping turtles sunning on the surface of the lake. I am passionately involved with foggy dawns, with bright sunny noons, with thunderstorms at dinnertime.
I am amazed before a creator that keeps coming up with more and more glorious things: never tiring of creating and sustaining stars, grass blades, drops of dew, the moon, my lake, the grains of sand on the Jersey shore.
There is a song by Fanny Crosby that I sometimes sing. The first verse says:
Sing, my soul! proclaim the holy rapture
Bursting now from every chord of thine;
Angel choirs, their highest numbers waking,
Never told the bliss of a joy like mine.Today, with nature singing all around, with Gods angels fluttering, invisible, in the glorious sunlight, my soul is full of bliss. It sings to the lake, to Mario, to the bright sunshine, to the creator herself:
Glory, glory, hallelujah!
Sondra Ball
Clerk, Salem Quarterly MeetingRETURN TO TABLE OF CONTENTS
Last modified: Tuesday, May 20, 2008 at 11:45 PM