Joys of Summer

Enlarge Image Image Gallery Sights, Smells and Sounds of Summer Bring Happiness - Elinor, Niagars Falls, New York Brian Orr

Sights, Smells and Sounds of Summer Bring Happiness

I love to sit on my porch after supper in the summertime and listen to the familiar sounds of the neighborhood children.

Mrs. Wilson across the street has her grandchildren often in the summer, and the squeals heard from them as they jump rope or play hopscotch are reminiscent of the fun I had as a child.

The three young girls down the street keep cool on hot, humid evenings by running through the sprinkler, shrieking with delight. Then there’s Iris, who rides her bicycle tirelessly up and down the block, and Chrissy often comes over to sit with me and chat. To me, there is no sweeter sound than that of children playing.

Chrissy’s stories begin with, "Know what?" Her blue eyes, pudgy nose and deep dimples are priceless, and she never has trouble keeping a conversation alive.

Iris often stops by to visit, too. She’s shy, but always wants to know "why." Why do squirrels like nuts? Why are all the flowers in your flower box red? Why are the neighbors’ kittens always on your porch? I don’t always have the answers, but I try the best I can to answer her.

These days, I don’t have to go any further than my front porch to enjoy summer. I still enjoy the light summer breezes, the fireflies that flit about in the evening darkness, and the aroma of the blooming flowers around me. It makes me happy that I always have tomorrow to look forward to, and I absolutely love the joyous noise of the neighborhood children. Do I get bored? Never! This is my cup of tea, and I wish it were summer all year long.

Elinor - Niagara Falls, New York

Summer Means a Day Dedicated to Honoring Dad

Summer brings with it Father’s Day, a day to honor our fathers. I grew up without indoor plumbing in the old farmhouse where we lived, but I had something better. I had a dad who took me fishing and just spent time with me.

My dad was a hard-working farmer who worked from daylight until dark to make a living for his family on our small acreage. His only two forms of recreation were fishing and smoking a pipe. As a child, I often got earaches, and when I did, Dad would pull me on his lap and blow smoke in my ear, which was said to help back then. I don’t know if it helped or not, but I was comforted as he rocked me. I can still remember the feel of the buttons on his overalls as I rested my head against his chest.

In summer, Dad often took me fishing with him. However, most of the time, we caught more memories than we did fish. Winding through a pasture we rented was the murky, muddy Marmaton River. Nestled down in the cool mud beneath the cloudy water were the biggest, scrappiest fish around – carp and catfish. Dad liked to do battle with those creatures, and I liked to go along. It wasn’t that I particularly liked to fish. I just wanted to be with my dad.