Just like that, the leaves on my tomato plants changed and changed, they did, almost overnight. These browning, turning leaves on their still green vines, signals me that change, is again, in the air. I planted eight tomato plants—all different. The one in the image above is a Cherry Tomato and this is the one that changing the fastest these days. It feels as if there is a race against time—against a withering plant and vine and leaves and the fruit of the vines—these tasty little morsels of goodness.
I don’t feel ready for summer to be over. Could we extend these days of August please?
There’s been so much change in these months. Can’t summer just be extended for a few more weeks? Does summer have to be over? Does this joy have to end?
There simply is more of life I would like to suck out of these nectar filled days. After all, this is why people seek to find solace in the rivers and see the beauty of the mountains. Here, we are up. We are above and we don’t melt here in the scorching heat of summer’s heat.
But one doesn’t have to live in the mountains to know about the turning of time and the changing of seasons. Regardless of where we live—regardless of the season of life we are in right now, change is going to happen. We can’t stop the passage of time—nor should we.
Back to summer…
We have not eaten at our dining table since summer began. Rather we sit for breakfast on the front porch watching our tomatoes grow. Lunch is outside in the back where we enjoy a mountain view. We enjoy dinner on the side porch where the breeze starts up around 5:00pm and stops at dusk when the stars show up for their nightly display
Back in the turbulent spring, some people we loved passed and news came of someone else sick with cancer. It was harsh in the cold spring rains. But, not now in these final days of summer bliss— It’s like we’ve been given a reprieve of bad news. Has it been this way for you too?
What I’m talking about is living in the present moment. In these moments of the the final days of summer, isn’t there still yet something you want to do? Someone you want to visit—a place that is inviting you to soak up and marinate in? We have only days left before school begins and vacations are over—only days. What else feels like life? I’m not counting the days until the election, mind you. I am counting the amount of summer nectar I’ve drunk—and how many days are left to drink this summer time potion.
There’s a new place in town I’ve heard is good for dinner--let’s go.
There’s a trail we have not yet taken—let's go.
There is a day of sun before the rain begins—let's go.
There is a luscious melon now in the fridge—let's go.
Can we plan a picnic? What is stopping us?
And then there’s this—I’ve been thinking about getting baptized. Oh, I was dunked when I was a five year old boy—way too young to know the stain of sin in my soul. I didn’t have a clue of what I was doing. I only “walked the aisle” because my sister did and I did not know how to do anything without my sister in those days. Now, that I’m 70, I’ve been thinking about it and wondering if I just might want to “wade into the water” of the mighty headwaters of the French Broad and do it all now with the collective meaning of 70 years and many spins around the Potter’s Wheel. If I do get baptized, then I’d like to do it soon—before the water gets cold again. I’ll keep you posted.
Tomorrow evening, we will attend a gathering called a “Tomato Smackdown.” A dozen friends will gather on a shaded deck and we will gather around a bushel basket of ruby reds and mounds of leafy lettuce and bountiful platters of fried bacon. The only choice will be: Which kind of mayonnaise to lather the bread with? And oh yeah, one more important decision: toasted or not toasted?—now that is a good question. We will feast on friendship and food and one will not be better than the other. It will be our third “Smackdown” or as I call it, a Tomato Gala. It is a ‘gala’ for me. It’s one marker of time that helps me know how long we have lived here now. Someone will bake a blueberry pie. Another will bring a cobbler made of the berries of the forest. We will tell of our summer days. Some will have travelled far and tell their stories and some will have gone far into a rest that is much needed.
But in the back of our minds is the knowing that soon—perhaps very soon, we will need a jacket for the crisp cool air that is coming. In the back of my mind is this: these are precious days and did I suck the nectar out—all of it?
My new poem, “The Nectar of Summer Days” describes my lament over this particular summer coming to an end. Anything that we lament over—reveals how deeply held we value it or someone… and now I am lamenting the closing of this summer. It’s just been so very good for my soul. Each stanza shows some dimension that I have both enjoyed and am aware of now that I will miss.
See what you think and if you can relate?
What does this poem stir up in you as you read it?
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