First Saturday Sky in June

No wonder I love the color blue. Our summer skies will mostly just be blue and featureless until the rains return in the fall. It is going to be interesting to see how I can make a plain blue sky interesting. There were high thin clouds here and there this afternoon. This little swirl was my favorite. As a kid growing up in a very different world in which we live today, I laid on my back upon the grass, arms folded behind my head, and watched the clouds float by. To this day I love to watch the clouds form and dissipate, and often wish I could lay once again as I did in my youth, under a tall shade tree, upon cool, thick blades of grass, a gentle caressing breeze, and dream away the afternoon.

In a meadow, upon a hill, a tall oak spreads its arms and shields me from the sun.

(It is hot, four days of the first heat wave of the year.)

The bright blue sky spreads before my gaze, the cloud formations stir my imaginings.

(Let's see, I've paid the bills, taken several phone calls, washed and dried five loads of laundry.)

The delicate breeze bends the tall grass on distant hill, the scent of wild flowers perfumes the air.

(It's cotton wood season, pollen floats thick on a hot, dry wind, and weekend fumes from gas engines choke the air.)

On lofty branches above my head, birds sing love songs to one another. Butterflies flit out o'er the quiet field. All is peaceful and beautiful here.

(The drone of tires, rattle of ancient lawnmowers, hum of air conditioners, a barking dog or two, banging screen doors as children race in and out; radios, stereos, television and the white nose from fans, an old air plane with the engine noise of two Harley's, circles, and circles and circles above.)

Ahh, thirteen is great. Peaceful afternoons on that quiet, shaded hill, a good book in hand, or just lay back and dream dreams and make plans.

(Sixty-three, aches and pains, small apartment, manicured grounds full of fertilizer, moss killer, weed killer; dog pee and dog poop; two more shade trees have given up the ghost and they will not be replaced.)

The sun is descending, the sky deepens, a faint call is heard off in the distance, time to go in, it says, time for dinner.

(Dinner? It's time for dinner already! I forgot to thaw something out from the freezer. Forgot to get bread from the store. Will hot dogs do? We've got hot dog buns in the freezer, too? How about I open a can of pork and beans, again, dear?)

The stars appear, the moon is high, full this time in a cloudless sky.

(Thank goodness this day is over. I'm tired, my feet ache, dishes still soaking in the sink, Mama's Family is coming on in less than five.)

Thank God for another perfect day, for this blessed earth where beauty and peace abound.

(Amen. And thanks for giving me another chance to start over and watch my tongue--tomorrow.)

P.S. Thanks for my neighbors roses whose pink blossoms, prompted by the heat, filled my senses with columns of sweet scented air as I passed back and forth to the laundry room; reminding me there's always room for summer afternoon dreams under cloudless skies.