Summer Gratitude

by Janet McCornack
(Homedale, ID USA)

Summer gratitude. Watching my small granddaughter playing alone in the sandbox, making pies. So content and busy in the make-believe world that is the sole property of children - Slowly spinning ceiling fans and box fans in doorways bringing in cool morning air. White lace curtains ruffled by the morning breeze - Walking the railroad tracks to work in the morning, crossing the trestle over the creek and sitting beneath its shade to read on summer afternoons - Barns, silos, covered bridges, water towers and church spires. Flipflops, bare feet, cool cotton sheets, orange geraniums in green ceramic pots, Kool-Aid, popsicles, strawberry milkshakes and vanilla ice cream cones. Dogs following little boys on bicycles - The sounds of running brooks, church bells, train whistles, roosters crowing, coyotes howling, crows cawing, sprinklers in alfalfa fields, wind in the treetops, rain on the roof, coffee perking, and the slosh-slosh sound of the washing machine on the back porch. - Birds singing, cows and ewes murmuring to their babies, whistling in the dark, and the peacefulness of hens scratching and clucking about the yard - Going on country drives with my elderly uncle and listening to his store of rural knowledge. Strolling about a beach-side town with my sister, buying saltwater taffy, watching sealions basking on the dock and charter boats coming in with their catch. Listening to the roar of the breakers and breathing the moist air and salt and fish smells of the ocean - The smell of lavender stalks, mint fields, newly mown alfalfa, juniper and sage. The smell of horse corrals on hot afternoons. The smell of tiny babies and the warm smell of little children when they first wake up from their naps. And the slightly baked smell of children who've been outdoors playing in the sun - Picket fences, porch swings, gazebos, lawn chairs, hammocks and rocking chairs- County fairs, watching teenagers having fun on the midway and older couples enjoying the exhibits - Sitting on the back steps at dusk feeling the evening fall, watching cloud shadows float across the hills, listening to the crickets and my young grandson outside his house, sitting on the patio, practicing his clarinet.

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