The Sounds of Summer

My house smells like Mama’s on a hot summer day!  When I was little, I would come in from playing outside only to smell the aroma of vinegar and dill permeating the kitchen. I would know Mom was making dill pickles. 

I made 5 quarts of dill pickles this morning; then went outside to do some work in the yard. When I came back in for a drink of water, the aroma brought a moment of nostalgia and memory too precious to ever lose. Sometimes I think I make pickles just for that moment.
 
 Last night as I was lying in bed, I heard the nearby train blow its mournful whistle at the crossing. A gentle, summer breeze swept across my face as I lie on my cool, soft pillow; it felt like summer, and for a moment I was back at Grandma and Grandpa’s house. I purposely moved our bed so the head would be at the window and I could feel like I did on those warm, summer evenings when I was a kid visiting my grandparents. That feeling is probably one of my favorite moments of stillness and rest.

 

My Bible sits on the table by my porch swing where I left it this morning. From where I sit at my computer, I can hear through my open window, the rustling of the pages in the breeze. I am sure it is no longer open to the page I had been reading. That sound of Bible pages rustling - normally noticed as I sit in church and our pastor asks us to “Turn to…” - has long been one of my favorite sounds ever since Matthew called my attention to it when he was about 5 or 6. “Isn’t that a beautiful sound, Mom,” he had whispered.

My little fountain plays its refrain, over and over and over. A crow calls caw, caw, caw and the mama killdeer chirps her warning cries.

I have come to love those ever-present killdeer.  I had 3 little babies running around my yard again this summer. They have become a very important part of my summer days.

The horses graze in the pasture; those “beasts” are probably one of the “material possessions”, for which I am most thankful.  Don’t even go there!  ;-) I hear a calling whinny periodically, letting me

know it’s time for some attention. "A righteous man [or woman] regardeth the life of his beast."

 

I hear the whish, whish, whish of the sprinkler. Thankful for its cooling touch, I am reminded of summers long ago, and that pleasant rhythmic sound without which the days simply would not be the same.

Ice cubes tinkling in the glass of a cool, refreshing drink; the background hum of a lawnmower, acres away at a neighbor’s home; the hum of a honey bee; the flutter of a hummingbird; the popping of canning lids as they seal in freshness for winter; the snapping of beans; the laughter of children; these are the sounds of summer as we come close to saying good-bye for another year. These are the moments I cherish.

They are the memories of childhood, dreams for the future, thoughts of gratitude for the present moment – the days of summer flaunting their treasure in fleeting moments of time. They are moments to be grasped to hold onto for later, when I am sure I will need to “spend” some of that treasure as days grow shorter, darkness settles in and snow blankets the ground. Some day soon, if not already, summer days fall behind and we move into autumn.

Yep, moments such as these are unspent treasure held in my bank for winter.