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|Date:||7/28/2014 3:35:25 PM
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|June, Part I
Last year I had written about the magic of June, at least to schoolboys like Tommy and me way back when. This year I have to say that as a result of the worst Winter of my life, this June means more to me than any before. The other night I absolutely treasured the evening song of the robin in our front yard. As I'd mentioned a year ago, this song only lasts until the end of June. The same goes for the Oriole and the Rose-breasted Grosbeak. Knowing all too well that this time is all too fleeting, I treasure it; I treasure it; there's no other word that describes it so well. As I get older and realize that each Summer is closer to a final Summer, I treasure it all the more. My Ruthie, in her inimitable way, can capture the treasures of each year with her camera. For me, I try to hold on to the sights, sounds, and smells by writing down what I love about June.
Of course this has been done better by others. The poem "What is So Rare As a Day in June" by James Russell Lowell puts into verse what I can only feel inside. I've selected two verses that I think apply best:
"Now is the high-tide of the year,
And whatever of life hath ebbed away
Comes flooding back with a ripply cheer,
Into every bare inlet and creek and bay; ...."
"... Joy comes, grief goes, we know not how;
Everything is happy now,
Everything is upward striving;
'Tis as easy now for the heart to be true
As for grass to be green or skies to be blue,..."
More about June next time. -- Gary
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