NEWS FROM THE HILLS
These late spring mornings are a balm to the soul. Before daylight, the songbirds are tuning up for a full-fledged orchestra, with a few warbles here and there. It seems they are anxiously waiting the dawn of another day, which they greet with such an exuberant burst of melody that it cheers the listener.
My heart is uplifted also to greet another day. The Heavenly Father has watched over us another night, and awakened us with the joy of being alive and eager to live another day. What a blessing it is to sit in the swing with a cup of tea and watch the world come alive!
The sun struggles to break through the early morning mist that is draped over our hills, and Pilot Knob is so shrouded by fog that the top disappears into the sky. Soon the sun will overpower the fog and burn it away, leaving a fresh-washed world for our enjoyment.
The grass is wet with dew, and flowers and garden plants stretch in the morning sunlight. The velvety faces of the roses are beaded with moisture; each unfurled bud is damp with dew. Their unmatched fragrance contains the essence of summer mornings. The peace of the morning flows through me, and I feel yesterday’s cares draining away.
The Bible tells us that, “the Lord’s mercies and compassions are new every morning.” Without His mercy I would have been consumed long ago. It is impossible to witness a morning like this and not feel God’s presence all around us. It is “the cool of the day” and God is very near.
The melody of the songbirds is dwindling away now, as parent birds go about their daily task of feeding their young. The individual notes can be heard. “Pretty girl, pretty girl,” sings the cardinal. “Cheater, cheater, cheater,” answers his mate. The soft twittering of the tiny wrens mingles with the muted tap-tap-tapping of a woodpecker drumming on a hollow tree. The new day has begun.
These are the placid days of June, when roses burst into cascades of bloom and daisies throng the road banks in huge masses. Schools close their doors for summer vacation, and eager children are “glad in the freedom of school let out.”
There’s no freedom comparable to finishing that last day of school. It seemed that summer stretched before us, joyful and endless. I remember waking up the morning after, and realizing that there was no rush to get ready for school, no homework to find or books to hunt. Ah! That sense of freedom!
While I lay in bed, I could smell the scent of rambler roses coming through the open window, and hear the songbirds with their morning music. There would be the rattle of a bread pan as Mom made the breakfast biscuits, and soon the mouth-watering fragrance of bacon would drift in from the kitchen. It seemed that I was the happiest little girl in the whole world.
Summer vacation seems so much shorter now, but the daisies, roses and songbirds are still the same. I wonder if today’s children look forward to this time with the anticipation that we did. We could play cowboy and Indians in the woods, wade in the creek and catch minnows and crawdads, climb up in the barn and romp in the sweet-smelling hay.
Evening brought games of hide-and-seek, “Old Witch” played on the Virginia office porch, and lightning bugs caught in a glass jar. Combined with our daily chores, it was hard to cram all these things into one short day.
Looking back now, I realize that it was the best time of our lives.
Life on the farm moves steadily along, much as it always did. Most of the banty hens have gone to setting, and a lot of them have stolen their nest out. They will emerge later, with a flock of tiny birdies following in their wake. The banty roosters crow loudly with pride, and the hens that have not taken their nests sing as they scratch industriously around the chicken house.
My good friend Barb, from Fort Wayne, questioned me about a chicken singing. They do sing, and they remind me of a little housewife, singing happily as she goes about her daily chores. Andy’s little Palomino colt, Easter Lily, gambols in the meadow beside her mother. Spring is a time for baby animals and new growth.
I am sadly behind in answering requests for songs–I will try to catch up as I am able. Roy Cool has a request for the words to a couple of songs that he heard from his mother. One is “Everyone works but Father,” and the other is “I’m a Stern Old Bachelor.” I am not familiar with either of them.
Fred Cunningham requested two songs some time back. Here is one of them.
Rocking Alone (in an Old Rocking Chair)
Sitting alone in an old rocking chair
I saw an old mother with silvery hair
She seemed so neglected by those who should care
Rocking alone in an old/rocking chair.
Her hands were all callused and wrinkled and old
A life of hard work was the story they told
And I thought of angels as I saw her there
Rocking alone in an old rocking chair.
Bless her old heart, do you think she’d complain
Though life has been bitter she’d live it again
And carry the cross that is more than her share
Rocking alone in an old rocking chair.
It wouldn’t take much just to gladden her heart
Just some small remembrance on somebody’s part
A letter would brighten her empty life there
Rocking alone in an old rocking chair.
I know some youngsters in an orphans’ home
Who’d think they owned heaven if she were their own
They’d never be willing to let her sit there
Rocking alone in an old rocking chair.
I look at her and I think “What a shame”
The ones who forgot her she loves just the same
And I think of angels as I see her there
Rocking alone in an old rocking chair.
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