My neighbor dropped off about 50 ears of fresh sweet corn from his 5-acre patch today. I get to enjoy sitting on the front porch shucking the sweet corn tonight. My dog Bandit joins me.
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It’s a beautiful late summer evening. The birds are singing their evening songs. A cardinal is sitting on a power line. He’s positively glowing in the light from the sunset. The rizzbugs that appear this time of year are buzzing their summer cadence.
Rizzbugs are locusts. I just call them rizzbugs because that’s what they sounded like to me as a little girl and I’ve called them that ever since.
A Time to Reflect While Shucking Sweet Corn
Summer porch-sitting is a time for two things: visiting and reflecting. Bandit’s vocabulary is limited, so tonight I shuck sweet corn, take in the beauty and life all around me, and reflect. Sit down next to me, grab an ear of sweet corn, and join in. 🙂
I’m thinking about the passage of time. This last week I’ve been thinking about that a lot. This is my son’s final week at home for the summer. This weekend he leaves for his sophomore year at college. There is a very good possibility this is his last summer at home. Next year he could be playing football for a school that requires him to report to campus in mid-June. Or he may have an internship or a summer job elsewhere.
These changes are necessary and good. Children must grow up, though the transition is bittersweet.
Did you see the photos of my kids in last week’s article Beat Late Summer Boredom? It feels like I took those photos yesterday. When did those photos start looking old?
Moved to Tears
On Instagram this week Julie from Cotton and Twine Home Design posting in her story a sweet, poignant moment with her young son. She’d dropped doing the dishes, turned up the music and danced with her little boy. He is soaking up every drop of love from his momma.
I saw that and cried crocodile tears. I remember those sweet moments dancing with my babies. I remember cleaning the garage one summer day in Wisconsin while my baby daughter played in her playpen where I could keep an eye on her. This song from the 70s came on the radio: Dance with Me by Orleans. I quit my work, picked her up and we danced around the garage while she laughed and laughed. I treasure that dance.
I messaged Julie to thank her for sharing that moment and told her how deeply it touched me. She was so gracious and kind to a mom whose children are freshly out of childhood and still making the adjustment.
Porch-sitting with Grandma
Sitting here shucking sweet corn this evening also makes me think of my Great-Grandma Irma.
We used to sit on her front porch in my small Ozark hometown on summer evenings like this one and break green beans for canning.
Driving down the road in Missouri a few weeks ago I saw a mimosa tree in someone’s front yard. Grandma had a mimosa tree. I loved to climb in it, sit on a branch and pick those soft, tickley pom-pom flowers and inhale their heady, sweet, floral fragrance. I loved helping her in the garden. I loved how she loved me.
Oh, how I miss her.
She’s gone, passing in 2001. Her house was torn down after she passed. I don’t know why other than it sat on what is probably now commercial property. The house was old but well-kept. It sat between the movie theatre and library. I guess someone wanted an office or retail space instead of a neat old house with prize-winning peonies and a lovely mimosa tree.
I guess it depends on what you value. Give me neat old houses, fragrant flowers, and a loving Grandma any day.
A Time for Everything
All this melancholy reflection is just rooted in transition. Life moves on. Everything has its season.
This passage came to me this week. I wish I could remember where I saw it, but the timing of its appearance is no coincidence.
There is a time for everything,
and a season for every activity under the heavens:
a time to be born and a time to die,
a time to plant and a time to uproot,
a time to kill and a time to heal,
a time to tear down and a time to build,
a time to weep and a time to laugh,
a time to mourn and a time to dance,
a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them,
a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing,
a time to search and a time to give up,
a time to keep and a time to throw away,
a time to tear and a time to mend,
a time to be silent and a time to speak,
a time to love and a time to hate,
a time for war and a time for peace.
This is a Season of Transition
I couldn’t stay a little girl and climb Grandma’s mimosa tree forever. That time was a season. I had to grow up.
I couldn’t sit on the front porch and break beans with Grandma forever. That time was a season. Grandma had an appointment with her time to pass on.
My kids can’t stay little forever. That time was a season. They have to grow up and be who they’re meant to be
But I can still dance with them. 🙂
Thank you for sitting with me and listening.