Sunday, May 26, 2019

Perfect Sunday

Coming out of church at noon on Sunday I noticed that warm, humid feel of  a pending thunderstorm.  The sky was blue with white fluffy clouds as I made my way into town to run a few errands before heading home to Luna.  As I headed back north I saw gray blankets of storm clouds coming in from the west.  Just in time I parked the car in the garage, unpacked the groceries and ran through raindrops into the house as thunder began to growl above me.  I thought of friends who were camped on the lake and river for this holiday weekend and hoped that the storm would be over in a few minutes rather than last all afternoon.
As soon as I finished lunch I could see the sun breaking through and the clouds clearing.  A short-lived rain that miraculously brought a cooling wind to my hill.  I left the dinner dishes on the table, grabbed my book and went out on the porch.  
Heavenly!  The wind was cool and fresh.  The humidity had dropped to nothing.  Just a jewel of an afternoon lay before me.  I read a little.  I snoozed some.  But most of all I noticed the little things that came to my attention.  It is so utterly quiet up on my hill...especially on a Sunday afternoon.  Very little going on in Luna.  Which suits me to a tee.
Birds. Did I mention the birds?  We have a number of meadowlarks  nesting in the tall grass to the north of the house.  We noticed the adults swooping down and feeding their young in the nest buried somewhere in the tall green grass.  And now the young ones are learning how to fly.  A little awkward.  One ran into the eave of the porch just above my head.  He managed to land on the grass...upright and peeping, his beak open to summon help.  Peep.  Peep.  As if to say 'Hey, Mom, here I am.  Don't worry.'  And off he flew..a little unsteady but still he made it to a safe spot in the grass where he could recover.
A cardinal sang from his favorite branch in the oak tree.  Tree swallows have taken over the bluebird house.  A case of first come, first served I guess.  They are raising a brood.  I love to watch them perch on the edge of the entrance hole...and then slip down out of sight.  Looking forward to seeing the little ones pop out one by one.
All in all I was content to just sit and rest.  After all,it was Sunday.  Just a perfect day to spend doing nothing. Watching the clouds drift by, lulled to rest and peaceful thoughts by bird song and light winds.  Who could ask for a better day?  No one!  

Wednesday, May 1, 2019

Guitar Man

Saying good-bye to friends is always hard.  Especially when they have made your life so much more enjoyable.  Truman Lewis, who passed away this week, was surely a ray of sunshine that lightened every day.  
I first met Truman at the Tuesday night music jam that was held at the Senior Center in Gainesville.  This picture is from 2013.  Here he is surrounded by his music playin' buddies, Harold and Eldon.  You can see JR Strickland there too...in the right hand corner.  Music..and jokes...and fun.  That was what it was all about.
But this is about Truman and what he meant to all of us...and me too.  Even though his voice had gotten scratchy and his hands were not as sure on the strings...when it came his turn to play...he played with all his heart.  At this particular jam I remember him dedicating his song to his old school teacher..Valeta Crawford who was in the audience.  How she loved music!  And Truman knew just the songs she liked to hear.  Stories..he had quite a few.  He wasn't quite as loquacious as some of his buddies but he could tell a good tale.  
One night during break I sat down next to him.  He was really proud of the guitar he had that night.  Told me all about it.  Since I was a complete novice in all things with strings, I asked him some questions.  And he was so good about being patient with me and my lack of expertise.  
I guess that would just about sum up Truman in a few words.  Loved music, kind and understanding, and always ready with a smile and a good word.
We will miss him.  But I know if there is a bluegrass group up in Heaven, he is playing with them right now....and his voice is strong and clear and his fingers are nimble on the strings.  Play on Truman, play on.