Turning the Page

There is an air of anticipation as I tear off the calendar page to reveal the month of September. I can't quite put my finger on exactly what or where the anticipation comes from.

Perhaps it is from all those years of starting school on September 1 - the new clothes that follow the latest trend, the new binders and scribblers - pages so crisp that one hates to even mark them with pen or pencil. The anticipation of turning over a new leaf - a new start so to speak, a blank slate. The previous school year is a distant memory and the new one is there for the taking.

Ah yes, perhaps that is where this feeling comes from?

Or, perhaps it is beause motherhood saw me start children off to school, buying them new clothes, new books, registering them in their various activities. A busy (and expensive) time of year.

Perhaps that is where this feeling comes from?

But I have long (35 years) been out of school and it has been 10 years since I last sent a child to school. Yet I still have those feelings of anticipation, of starting over, making lists, setting goals, making promises to eat better, exercise more, save more, plan meals, set aside more time for myself - etc. etc. etc. etc......

The Hunter spouse would point to the fact that his love of September and his feeling anticipation comes as a result of the opening days of the various Hunting Seasons -

September 1 - Ducks and Geese;

October 15 - Pheasant and Partridge

November 1 - Big Game.

For me the anticipation is also rooted deep inside me -

Perhaps the product of my being born first, that perfectionist tendancy that is always niggling that things could be done better.

Perhaps it is the feeling that everyone has because our world runs according to clocks and calendars.

I definitely cannot put my finger on the reason but as I rip off August ( and wonder where 8 months of the year have gone) - it is like turning the pages of that crisp new notebook - it is a new chance, a new start.

And I look forward to it with great anticipation!

Summer Waning

This morning I awoke at the ungodly hour of 3:55 - why?? Perhaps the 2 glasses of water I downed before going to bed. Perhaps the frustration of my day at work yesterday. Perhaps just the quirks of getting older. For whatever reason, after my third trip to the bathroom since going to sleep, I lay in bed thinking the many crazy thoughts that go through ones mind in the dark of the night.



As I lay there, I realized that only a month or so ago, the sun would have been peeking over the eastern horizon, the birds would have started their morning wake up songs and the day would be starting.



But this morning, at 4 am - all was quiet, the still dark eastern sky shows not even a promise of light and the birds - well they were still doing whatever birds do during the nights.



So now it is 5:30 am - I have had two cups of coffee, sorted some pictures on the computer, checked some blogs and tried to think of something exciting to add to my blog (which has sat neglected for a month now).



As I looked around for something "blog-worthy", I noted that at 5:30 am on August 8, the eastern sky is just beginning to turn light. The crows - certainly the loudest of the song birds - have started to awaken from their roost in the bush behind our house.




So I began to think about summer's waning. It seems somewhat unfair that the longest days begin in the dark, cold winter and for the next six months, one hardly even is able to enjoy and appreciate the lengthening light. We sit huddled against the cold for four - even five of those months and try to cram all summer's enjoyment into one short month before the clock turns and the days begin their backward jaunt.



It is with a sense of melancholy that one realizes that the heat of the day has an underlying coolness and predicts fall - and winter - is around the corner. Some, like the Hunter - look forward to the fall, others - like myself - feel sad that another summer has flown by and soon we will be huddled again inside the house watching the days lengthen towards summer 2008.

So as I watch the eastern sky turn pink with the promise of another summer day, I note with sadness, summer's waning by the hands of the clock.

Last of the summer

Oh! What a bummer!

The last of the summer

The sun smiles with a final glimmer

There goes the summer charmer

Winter sneaks in like a new comer

While I, the dreamer will focus only on the former

Oh! What a bummer!

The last of the summer

The weather deceptively seems warmer

Amongst those not led on are the farmers

Leaves blossom on but not for long

Winds stay calmer and in time blow strong

Shorter days and longer nights

The last of the summer is my plight

Forgotten roses and barren trees

The missing buzz of the bumble bee

The last of the summer is about to flee

Smiling cheerful faces and beautiful places

And away goes the usual beach crazeUntil the sun decides to resurface

The last of the summer has ended its race

Oh! What a bummer!

It is the last of the summer

Copyright 2006 - Sylvia Chidi Sylvia Chidi

The Project

This past weekend, our town celebrated it's 100th birthday. It was incorporated as a village in 1907 and received town status in 1966.

There were several legacy projects that were undertaken by groups in town and our Art Group decided that we would contribute a collage of paintings by local artists.

The collage was made up of 19 individual 8" x 8" squares which depicted something which the artist felt embodied our town, the area or this momenteous occasion.

Here are the results!

The Squares were painted with acrylic paint and mounted onto a 40" x 48" masonite board which was painted black.

Following are close up photos of the individual squares.

Our town can be proud of the talented artists that contributed to this project.

The Changing Moods of Mother Nature

Mother Nature is one fickle girl - she can blow soft breezes that caress the land in a bright, laughing sun




or she can sprinkle the landscape with a gentle shower that bathes the green trees and washes the faces of the flowers








For some reason, sometimes, Mother Nature gets angry with thunder and lightening and wind driven rain. Usually, the flowers and the trees are immune to her anger, bowing before her wrath but standing tall and bright in the afterglow





Then sometimes, Mother Nature's wrath builds - one can feel it in the air - a hot, heavy, still air that portends something happening. One can see her wrath building in the black clouds boiling to the west















The rain is harder, blown in the angry wind

Mother Nature throws balls of ice in her tantrum which slam into roofs and cars and defenseless plants.









The hail washes from the eaves to collect in piles under the downspout.




After Mother Nature's tantrum has passed, the damage is surveyed - the fading iris blooms are battered, but still standing tall and proud.

But Mother Nature is not finished with her wrath - she builds again to the west - the clouds are blacker and angrier as they swirl and boil.

.

We stand and watch as she moves closer and closer, hoping it will pass but knowing that this storm is too big and too close to simply slip on by.

We can hear her before she hits - a roaring off to the west, we can see trees start to bend and the sheets of liquid pour from the sky

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And then she is here - much angrier than before, throwing wind and hail and rain as hard as she can.

Rivers of water form and flow turning paths into raging streams boiling with white water.








Lakes form on the streets and garden plants become submurged in the murky water.

The terraced steps are submerged under a layer of water.

And then, suddenly, she is quiet, her wrath calmed in the sun's return.

The consequences of her wrath are laid bare for all to see.

Rhubarb lays flat, it's giant leaves stripped and filled with holes.

The strawberry plants, just starting to give us their bright red berries are alive, but bruised.



The tender young leaves of the hosta were no match for the Mother's wrath, they have been ripped to shreds.









Water and rain and wind have changed the landscape, where there were wood chips, black dirt is left, the chips having been driven onto the lawns by the force of the water.

The plants which had bloomed and blossomed and filled out in the spring are bent and twisted and broken in the aftermath.

Lakes of water cover the streets and sidewalks and lawns - a testament to the amount of water that fell and yet still an enticing wonder to a little boy.



























But Mother Nature is not done with her wrath on this day as she boils up again to the north.

Damage surveys are put on hold as we run for cover as the raindrops begin to fall








But she is spent, her wrath is done, this rain falls for only minutes through sunshine breaking through the clouds to the west.

And within minutes - it is done - the birds in their wisdom sing songs to welcome the sun back and calm Mother Nature. The rivers turn to gentle streams and soak into the ground. Within minutes they are gone, leaving behind canyons and ruts, a reminder of her force.

Sonnet: Don’t Blame Nature

Why challenge Mother Nature, man, in vain?

Accept her superiority and pow’r;

One can’t traverse with equal speed each lane;

Take blame for every flood, wind, drought and show’r!

When hot, the excess steam must be let off;

When cold, one needs to cover to gain heat;

When Nature’s in a furious mood, don’t scoff;

Find solutions better and don’t retreat.

When Nature sends a breeze, man loves her touch;

When Nature blows a wind fierce, men rant, rave;

Yet, Nature balances her acts so much;

From natural disasters, man ought to save.

Align with Nature:

Love the way she works;

But cursing God brings man more Nature’s jerks!

Copyright by Dr John Celes 9-6-2005

So she is calm again and morning brings her gentle side, the damage will be surveyed, pruning and raking and staking can cover the bruises left behind. The roots of the plants remain strong and will send out new shoots. Mother Nature will recover and we need to remind ourselves that it could have been worse - the damage to a few plants is small compared to the loss of property or life.

The wrath of Mother Nature will return again, we can never be sure when or how angry she will get. Nature does balance and we will soon forget this angry outburst as we bask in her calm and gentle side.