Texas Summer

We had Texas Spring for about an hour the other day.  The morning was fresh and clean feeling.  The birds were singing, the scent of flowers wafted, the breeze was light, the sun gentle.  Yes, about an hour the other day, it was spring.

Texas Summer, with its heat, has arrived.  It actually was late coming this year. The calendar still says April, but the weather says early summer. Damp, stifling, thick hot air.  The world is a steam bath.  Suffocating, deadly. 

I love it!  Really.  Not joking at all.  I love my Southeast Texas summers. 

Sunshine, thunderstorms, trips to the river to laze on the banks and cool off in the deep, clear waters. 

Fresh tomatoes, cucumbers, squash, melons grown just out the back door.  Banana trees reaching up to provide shade on the porch just in time for the hottest days. 

Making pickles.  Watching fireflies.  Firing up the pit for barbecue.  Fish fries, fireworks, flags waving. 

When I was a kid, living in this same house, we did not turn on the air conditioner.  We used an attic fan to draw air in from outside.  Mother would cover the arch from the living room to the rest of the house with a king size sheet and run a window unit in the evenings while we watched one of the two television stations we received.  Musical/comedy variety shows, family dramas, detective shows. 

At 6:15 p.m., the house was quiet to see the local weather forecast.  Ssshhhhh……the weather is on…….. In summer, so near the Gulf, plus a sailor father, the hurricane season was as critical as the football season.  No longer any sailors with us, but the habit lingers.  And the hurricanes still come. 

The roads were white sand.  With the baking of the sun and the grinding of car tires, the sand would become like the finest talc and coat my bare feet and legs by the end of a day of bike riding.  There were ever flowing artesian fed pipes of cold water scattered at the park on the lake.  Refreshment.  No need to go home for a drink.  The white sand and the artesian wells have fallen prey to “progress”.

Summers.  Memories.  Already we are planning our summer adventures.  The river beckons.  The heat reminds us of rope swings and muddy banks.  Sand bars and blow up floats.  Wade fishing before the other boats arrive to crowd the shore. 

I love my Southeast Texas Summers……………

 

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Raining Orchids

What does “Raining Orchids” mean?

I love orchids.  I haven’t been successful growing orchids, yet.  But, I love them none the less. 

In my mind, the orchid is the true queen of flowers.  Delicate, long lasting, fragrant, exotic.  Less common than roses.  Very desirable and lovely. 

The idea of orchids relating to life was inspired by Marjorie Hillis’ 1937 book:  Orchids On Your Budget.  She explains the balance of budgeting for the happier things in life such as hosting parties and enjoying entertainments among other things.  She also touches on the idea of making do and being truly happy about it. 

If you are familiar with the phrase “raining cats and dogs”, translate that image to “raining orchids”.  Orchids rain onto my life.  Not in the sense of endless loveliness and happiness, but of blessings sometimes outright and sometimes disguised by difficulty. 

This past weekend, I got to visit with my loved ones.  I was able to cook copious amounts of food to serve them.  I had some time with friends.  We remembered the Easter promises.  Yet, I thought about my mother, gone 16 years, yesterday.  How much I miss her in so many ways. My heart aches for her and so many others gone. 

But, my heart rejoices in the company of my great nieces!  Age three and age 2 months, they bring a kind of joy only little ones can.  And yes, I still get a thrill to see my adult children.  Three of the most wonderful people on the planet.  Period.  And then there is him.  He guards me, supports me, brings orchids into my life every day.

So many orchids in my life!  People and circumstances that create endless love, happiness, and blessings, both outright and disguised. 

Despite the books on growing them, I have lost the live orchids I had.  These silk orchids on one of my treasure tables will have to do until I figure out how to grow the real things.  Meanwhile, I will revel in the symbolic orchids raining throughout my life.  Him, family, friends, a table of plenty, a Risen Savior. 

 

 

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P.S.  65 is the year I was born.  I am too glad to be alive to worry about anyone knowing my true age!