Summer's Bounty

As long as I live I know I will never tire of the changing of the seasons in our beloved Maritime provinces. I may complain about the cold in winter (right after Christmas and up until April or so), the heat in August (when not even a hint of a breeze exits when the darkness falls, making it impossible to sleep), the freezing rain in early spring (and late fall and anytime during winter)--yes, we Maritimers love to hate our weather. But, where else can you look up at the sky and say, 'I think there's a storm coming" and the next few minutes the clouds have disappeared as if they'd never been?

Last night, after shutting out the light (and trying to shut out Hubby's snoring) I noticed right away that *heat* lightning was beginning to turn the night sky into a "festival of lights". Not only was the sky alive with colour, the fire-flies twinkled in the grass and trees that make our front garden area so appealing any time of day or night.

For a while I just gazed out the garden door and remembered the summer evenings of my childhood, when we ran and chased those delightful creaturs of light, capturing a few to hold in our hands, with looks of pure wonderment on our faces. "How do they do that?" we'd ask. And Dad would tell us some sort of magical story about how God needed to have extra light for the night creatures, or maybe I imagined that.

I pictured little field mice having their pathways lit up so they could make it back to their nests, where their young were waiting to be tucked in. I thought about the rabbits who just sat for a while, on the edge of the forest, enjoying "the show", mesmerized by thousands of blinkings in the quiet of dark. I remember thinking, "Wouldn't it be fun if we could light up like those bugs, and stay out all night until the sun came up".

Ahh, those innocent ramblings of a child. Today's world seems so far removed from that time and place. Let's not forget that magic. Let's not let *life* take that away. For tis the "stuff" of dreams, and look where dreams have brought us. We are here, able to still see and hear the delights of God's creation. That's something to be so thankful for. Blessings, Barb