Come September

Come September

Come September, and it is the start of a new year.  School is starting, vacations are ending, the garden is in full harvest mode.  

The long season of lawn mowing has slowed, nearly stopped, and one has time to wander around the yard, taking in the flowers, and the now unmistakeable presence of the start of Fall.  Summer is still here in the heat of the afternoon, but the early morning crispness and heavy dew is a sign of transition in the calendar, in the cycle of the seasons.

The last few months have been their usual blur of activities: chores and projects, sandwiched between work, and the summertime events.  

We still haven’t made it to the local farmers’ market this year, and have only had a few walks on the beach.   I took a long anticipated hike a few weeks ago, realizing it had been a while since I hit the trail, what with trying to find where I’d last laid down my hiking boots and my binoculars.   

A family reunion was fun, with great food, singing, and visiting folks I hadn’t seen for a year.   And, we had an unplanned one later one, gathering for a funeral, and remembering the wonderful stories and laughter of a favorite uncle.   Another reminder of how important it is to find the time for the fun and adventure of happy times, and good memories, and the strength of families.

One evening, we had the joy of listening to a favorite due sing and work their magic with their guitars and mandolin.  They played a concert at the youth prison we go to every week, visiting and mentoring young men.   There was a special joy in our hearts, watching young men enjoy themselves, becoming one with the music, and pondering their own talents and dreams.  Again, I was reminded of the power and gift of music in our lives.

Every week, I take my guitar there, through the prison gate, and play and sing with one of my buddies.  His musical talents are amazing, and an occasional tear runs down my face, as I share his joy and gifts, and watch him grow and find himself.   My guitar teacher is now part of his life,  and his skills seem to grow exponentially.

Their Pow Wow last week was a celebration of Spirit, of their many rich heritages, their creativity, and, above all, of their rich and fruitful community.  I was humbled and honored to be asked to come, and sit with them, and dance with them, in all their splendid and welcoming community.

I go there as a mentor, but I really am the receiver, the mentee, the beneficiary of so many gifts from those amazing young men.

As with every summer, there never seems to be enough evenings sitting outside, just enjoying the end of the day and the solitude of the yard.  Yet, we have had those wonderful evenings, and an hour here or there just enjoying the place and the day.   

Last week, my chore list got sidelined, and I rediscovered my canvasses and paints, and brushes, and spent a few hours lost in art.   My soul was happy, and the frustration inside of me that I’d hadn’t really had all the fun I’ve wanted this summer floated away.   Later on, I played my guitar and sang a few songs outside,  building up good memories of time well spent.

I held myself to one weekend wedding this summer, and savored the experience of love energy, a beautiful woman walking down the aisle, and the smile on her husband’s face.  There was much laughter and happiness, on a sunny evening, where barbecue smoke and good music lingered into twilight.

I’ve also found some riches in getting rid of things, and cleaning up a bit.  My golf clubs, which had accumulated dust, are now in the hands of a high school student who is passionate about his golf team.   My childhood .22 rifle is now in the hands of a firearms instructor, and my mother’s deer rifle will soon be in the hands of a young man passionate about the sport and time out in the woods with his family.   

My baby picture is now hung on a wall, rather than sitting in a box gathering dust, and there is a large pile of old papers waiting for the end of fire season and a new burn barrel.   Other treasures await my rediscovery of them, and the crossroad questions of “toss or save”.   At 59 years old, the “toss” answer is becoming more popular.

The real treasures now are time with family and friends, and in simply being present amidst the natural beauty that surrounds us.  And, I keep learning to pay attention to that, and to be present in all of that.

Come September, I hope to simply be grateful for all that is, in my life.

Neal Lemery 9/1/12

Deck Time: The First Day of Summer

I celebrate the first real day of summer by coming home early from work, the can of lawnmower gas refilled, and toss my dress shirt on the bed. Finding a pair of shorts in the bottom of my drawer, and a tank top, I lope outside to find the lawnmower. I stop briefly to fling open a few windows and prop open a door, letting real air come into the house, the humidity and dankness of gray days actually unnoticeable for once.

A nearly forgotten tube of sunscreen is found, and I slather a bit on my shoulders. Sunburn is a possibility today, a new concept around here.

For the first time this year, the grass flies out of the lawnmower not in thick, wet clumps, but like real grass, and the clippings don’t pile up in fat, slick sheets of soggy green. The sun is warm on my bare shoulders, and there is actually a warm breeze out of the northeast.

Tree leaves and grape leaves and every other kind of leaf doubled their size today, and the resulting photosynthesis gives the air more oxygen than I can handle.

Later, the lawnmower silent again, I find a glass of wine and my chair on the deck, being warm and dry and actually sitting on my deck, in shorts and tank top, and not freezing.

Karen has been planting today, most of the garden now marked with stakes and rows of dirt, and a few rows of seedlings emerging from the warming soil.

The wind chimes sing their gentle song, and the wind carries the faint voice of my neighbor, talking about how long it takes to cook the burgers. The summer smell of barbecue wafts across the deck, another new smell of the season we have been wanting to call summer. I’m usually in the house, drizzle or rain falling, clad in sweats on the couch.

Two more days of this, the weatherman promises, and I am thinking of summer life here. I need to find another pair of shorts, and toughen up the soles of my feet, getting used to walking barefoot and not wearing Gortex. It may even be time to hang up my collection of raincoats and sweat shirts for the summer.

We eat on the deck, and soak up the warmth. Our neighbor’s barbecue smoke adds to the good taste of dinner, and we talk, mostly about the pigeons and the goldfinches, the garden, and Karen’s day in the garden. The plants on the deck are starting to look healthy, and there are a few blooms to be found.

Later on, I play my guitar on the rocker, soaking up the late evening sun with my shirt off, playing some chords and practicing some strumming patterns. My other neighbor comes out to check on his horses and mow the rest of his lawn, his white legs bright against his shorts and the deep green of his lawn.

The young man I’ve been mentoring in prison calls, excited about the weather, and the book Karen sent him, and the pictures I took of our garden. We talk about the tree I planted last week, in his honor, over by the fire pit area. He wants to play cribbage with me on Sunday, when we have our visit. And, probably have our coffee and popcorn, and talk about his week. He’s growing stronger, I can tell it in his voice. Confidence is on the rise, and his smile comes through the phone, becoming content within his own skin.

A neighbor’s voice calls out to his dog, and I can hear the young dog running around on the grass, enjoying the evening with his master. Listening to their voices, I’m not sure who is having more fun.

This first real day of summer fills everything around here, green becoming greener, almost iridescent. Everything smells fresh, alive, and growing, including my spirit.

Sonny the Cat finally comes in from his day, chomping down his dinner, and getting ready for a deep sleep at the foot of my bed. After a day in the sun, he will dream of mice and warmth on his belly, his tail and paws twitching a bit as his brain sorts through the joys of a June day, a day when the sun finally came out.

June 3, 2011