Dear Lucy, It Is Summer

...and now it is ten months since our hearts were suddenly broken,

never to be the same again!

Dear Lucy, how we miss you!

The honeysuckle vine you gave is gilt with clusters, pink...

The breeze chases a winsome wave that rolls through wheat fields, gold...

The lily and the hollyhock lure honey bees to drink...

And everywhere we look earth gleams with beauty to behold

Summer has much on offer to rekindle awe and praise

The garden like a coffer brimming with the fruit of dreams

The countryside, a work of art entitled Summer Days...

Dear Lucy

The honeysuckle vine you gave is gilt with clusters, pink

The breeze chases a winsome wave that rolls through wheat fields, gold

The lily and the hollyhock lure honey bees to drink

And everywhere we look earth gleams with beauty to behold

Summer has much on offer to rekindle awe and praise

The garden like a coffer brimming with the fruit of dreams

The countryside, a work of art entitled Summer Days

(where joy and sorrow rush the heart in conflicting extremes)  

Sometimes, when missing you ignites fresh, sudden pangs of grief

I count the ways I loved you, sister dear, and love you more 

Then, from a world of yesterdays, descends divine relief

Love's symphony of echoes plays a tender repertoire 

The memories I have of you are like a garden path

Traced and retraced, soft woven through with threads I cannot touch

They gently bind the isles Thought trods to Laughter's Aftermath

Of Summers where we oohed and a-ahed, and talked and walked and such

....while watching our children grow too fast; they always do

While weathering the ebb and flow of tides that stole our youth

While planting flow'rs in trouble's dirt like our mother did too

While learning from parental hurt, lessons of timeless truth 

What I would give to hear you sigh or exclaim with delight  

Over something that caught your eye while your heart skipped a beat

A field full of wild flowers, purple, yellow, red and white (we were out on a sister's day)

Or twilight's tranquil bowers, or a yummy fresh-baked treat 

No, summer has not changed its ways, it still burgeons with bliss

And never ceases to amaze on both good days and bad 

The sky is blue; the lake is too, but, oh, in spite of this 

Somehow sweet summer without you just isn't quite as glad 

Janet Martin 

The memories I have of you are like a garden path

Traced and retraced, soft woven through with threads I cannot touch...

This year I planted a little flower garden in my vegetable garden...

A place to work, and let the therapy of flowers comfort me.

A place to sit to pray, read and remember Lucy, as well as my parents,

my other three sisters and their spouses,

my five brothers and their spouses

And of course her husband and children

We, as a family, all share in this deep grief of missing Lucy..

I hope in August when more flowers bloom, 

and you also would love a quiet moment of reflection and remembering Lucy,

you know you are welcome to drop by my garden too 💛🙏 

In the Garden

From a Flower-Frilled/Filled Lesson Book

Ps.65:9-13

You [c]visit the earth and water it,

You greatly enrich it;

The river of God is full of water;

You provide their grain,

For so You have prepared it.

10 You water its ridges abundantly,

You settle its furrows;

You make it soft with showers,

You bless its growth.

11 You crown the year with Your goodness,

And Your paths drip with abundance.

12 They drop on the pastures of the wilderness,

And the little hills rejoice on every side.

13 The pastures are clothed with flocks;

The valleys also are covered with grain;

They shout for joy, they also sing.

***

Gardening and life are a fine-tuned medley

of deep disappointment and darling delight!

***

Today's post is a medley of garden photos and quotes...

and a poem inspired by garden-blessings...

Long after final fruit is plucked

And cobs are shucked and gourds are gleaned

And herbs are hung to dry on rungs

Indoors, and the last leaf is weaned

Long after flower-stems are stripped

And fronds are clipped and furrows turned

I will reflect, time and again

On garden-lessons I have learned

...of disappointment and delight

For such is life; wonder and woe

Laughter, lament, beauty and blight

Patience, (for plants take time to grow)

…learning, that love is worth the years

Of work, of Waiting‘s by-and-by

That gladness grows sweeter through tears

Perfection, more than meets the eye

That it takes both the sun and rain

To make Growing Things flourish, oh

That life mingles pleasure and pain

Into love’s vintage afterglow

...that without the wise purpose of

The careful, cruel pruning knife

The plant will not be strong enough

To bear the waiting weight of life

  

Long after kale's last curl is culled

And frost, its temp’ring touch has wrought

I will remain humbly thankful

For lessons that my garden taught

...not in some, brick-walled lecture hall

But in a sun and breeze-kissed nook

Where crickets cheep and petals fall

From a flower-frilled lesson-book

© Janet Martin

Praise God From Whom All Blessing Grows...

This poem has been percolating in my soul for some time 💓🙏

Life is unceasingly busy with beauty/bounty of harvest among other things...

(including, much to our relief, the recovery of our pickup truck,

on Sat. night, after it was stolen from our back yard 

two weeks ago during a family reunion!

It will (happily) be returned in due time.

Thank-you to all who prayed and please continue to pray

 for the poor soul who stole it 😢💔)

Praise God from Whom all blessings grow as earthen wellsprings overflow...

The seed is rent with plume and root,

 the bough is bent with gleaming fruit...

The land, a patchwork counterpane of lush corn fields and gathered grain...

And gold-green sheen of soybean field aflutter with impending yield...

And in yon once-upon-spring-brooks, wild flowers beckon second-looks...

A rambling rush, where sight is awed by aster, teasel, goldenrod

Praise God from Whom all blessings grow as earthen wellsprings overflow

The seed is rent with plume and root, the bough is bent with gleaming fruit

The land, a patchwork counterpane of lush corn fields and gathered grain

And gold-green sheen of soybean field aflutter with impending yield

And in yon once-upon-spring-brooks, wild flowers beckon second-looks

A rambling rush, where sight is awed by aster, teasel, goldenrod

Praise God from Whom all bounty brims; happiness is hope’s harvest hymns

The creature’s quick complaint subdued by unmerited gratitude

As God, rich in mercy and love runs goodness through sod’s treasure trove

For needy likes of you and I whose worship lifts up glad reply

To He who gives us strength for toil as we gather seed’s sumptuous spoil

Or when praise is unlearned, still He pours unearned blessing lavishly

Praise God from Whom all blessings peal. Before whose throne we humbly kneel

To offer soulful stutters to the One who cares for me and you

Who loves to stun our ardent prose with the perfection of the rose

Who challenges the showman’s noise with dripping peachy-sweetest joys

Who strums the hidden parts of earth and orchestrates the art of birth

Who sees our hearts, knows how we are, yet still upends His blessing-jar

Praise God from Whom all blessing grows in reds, pinks, purples, greens, yellows

Each garden plot, (after the heat) a paradisiacal retreat

Each tree-tress like a mandolin breeze-balladeers get tangled in

Each woodland dark and whispering before fall’s stark unraveling

Each bower like a temple where we cannot help but bow in prayer

Each flower a masterpiece, oh, praise God from Whom all blessings grow

Each fruit and veg a five-star score of possibility galore

Each by God wondrously designed; each perfect after their own kind

Praise Him for healthy appetite and praise Him for each tasty bite

Of blessing only He can grant where our duty is to plant

Then trust Him for the compliments of sun and raindrop providence

Content to join the hymn that flows, ‘praise God from whom all blessing grows’

© Janet Martin

Praise God from Whom all blessing grows in reds, pinks, purples, greens, yellows

Each garden plot, (after the heat) a paradisiacal retreat...

Each tree-tress like a mandolin breeze-balladeers get tangled in

Each woodland dark and whispering before fall’s stark unraveling

Each bower like a temple where we cannot help but bow in prayer

Each flower a masterpiece, oh, praise God from Whom all blessings grow

Ps.66:1-5

Make a joyful noise to God,
all the earth!
2Sing the glory of His name;
make His praise glorious.
3Say to God, “How awesome are Your deeds!
So great is Your power
that Your enemies cower before You.
4All the earth bows down to You;
they sing praise to You;
they sing praise to Your name.”