Ray's musings and humor

Join summer in song

In summer, the song sings itself.

William Carlos Williams

Summer

Here we are summer with all it has to offer us in the Northern Hemisphere, sun, heat and more. This summer will be especially active for me besides my usual efforts to beat the heat. I have two grandsons being married, one in a week and another at summers end. We will be seeing folks from out of town while enjoying our role in the festivities. It is also the time when more of our grandchildren will be off to college, one to Brown University, another to Clemson, still another to finish at Xavier and one staying close by at Butler. We also have a grandson that has another year in High School and then all seven will have left to start their march to adulthood. While it is fun watching their progress we will miss the fun we had as they grew out of childhood.

While I am required to dodge the heat and sun all is not lost for when I venture out each morning before dawn I get to welcome the sunrise and see a world filled with color before hundreds of people block the view. There is also a lot to be said by only having to wear only one layer of clothes, although some of us miss our ability to hide our flaws under the cover of cool weather clothes. For me, I always welcome the change of seasons for it adds to the variety of life and each brings its own delights as well as its difficulties.

 

Sweet Summer

Wayne Jarus

 

The boats adrift in the harbour

As thoughts in a calm mind

A liquid sun beaming today and forever

We hoard happiness a smile at a time

 

As thoughts in a calm mind

Finding respite in cool shade

A liquid sun beaming today and forever

Butterflies flutter in a golden haze

 

Finding respite in cool shade

In this pastel world of light and shadows

Butterflies flutter in a golden haze

And crickets sing in motionless meadows

 

Oh sweet summer stay and sleep

A liquid sun beaming today and forever

Lingering dreams and afternoons of heat

The boats adrift in the harbour.

~~~

If a June night could talk, it would probably boast it invented romance.

Bern Williams

~~~

A tom cat and a tabby cat were courting on a back fence at night. The tom leaned over to the tabby with pent up passion and purred… “I’ll die for you!”

The tabby gazed at him from under lowered eye lids and asked, “How many times?”

~~~

Office rule: Never agree with your boss until he says something.

~~~

Molly was hanging up her husband’s jacket when suddenly she became furious. Molly had spotted a long grey hair on the shoulder. “I see,” she screeched like a hawk on the coup-de-grace, “you were at your mother’s to get sympathy again!”

~~~

The best thing to give to your enemy is forgiveness; to an opponent, tolerance; to a friend, your heart; to your child, a good example; to a father, deference; to your mother, conduct that will make her proud of you; to yourself, respect; to all men, charity.

Francis Maitland Balfour

~~~

Max Greenberg was at his favorite eatery, the Second Avenue Deli, when he called over the waiter.

“Yes?” asked the busy waiter.

“Are you sure you’re the waiter I ordered from?” asked Max.

“Why do you ask?” replied the waiter.

“Because I was expecting a much older man by now.”

~~~

If you are lavishly praised, enjoy the taste but don’t swallow it whole.

~~~

Esther was talking to her friend Sadie. “My son Sammy,” said Esther proudly, “has first class degrees in psychology, economics and politics.”

“You must be proud of him,” said Sadie.

“Yes I am,” replied Esther. “He can’t get a job but at least he knows why.”

~~~

GOD: St. Francis, you know all about gardens and nature. What in the world is going on down there in the USA? What happened to the dandelions, violets, thistle and stuff I started eons ago? I had a perfect, no-maintenance garden plan. Those plants grow in any type of soil, withstand drought and multiply with abandon. The nectar from the long lasting blossoms attracts butterflies, honeybees and flocks of songbirds. I expected to see a vast garden of colors by now. But all I see are these green rectangles.

ST. FRANCIS: It’s the tribes that settled there, Lord. The Suburbanites. They started calling your flowers weeds and went to great lengths to kill them and replace them with grass.

GOD: Grass? But it’s so boring. It’s not colorful. It doesn’t attract butterflies, birds and bees, only grubs and sod worms. It’s temperamental with temperatures. Do these Suburbanites really want all that grass growing there?

ST. FRANCIS: Apparently so, Lord. They go to great pains to grow it and keep it green. They begin each spring by fertilizing grass and poisoning any other plant that crops up in the lawn.

GOD: The spring rains and warm weather probably make grass grow really fast. That must make the Suburbanites happy.

ST. FRANCIS: Apparently not, Lord. As soon as it grows a little, they cut it, sometimes twice a week.

GOD: They cut it? Do they then bale it like hay?

ST. FRANCIS: Not exactly Lord. Most of them rake it up and put it in bags.

GOD: They bag it? Why? Is it a cash crop? Do they sell it?

ST. FRANCIS: No, sir — just the opposite. They pay to throw it away.

GOD: Now, let me get this straight. They fertilize grass so it will grow. And when it does grow, they cut it off and pay to throw it away?

ST. FRANCIS: Yes, sir.

GOD: These Suburbanites must be relieved in the summer when we cut back on the rain and turn up the heat. That surely slows the growth and saves them a lot of work.

ST. FRANCIS: You aren’t going to believe this, Lord. When the grass stops growing so fast, they drag out hoses and pay more money to water it so they can continue to mow it and pay to get rid of it.

GOD: What nonsense. At least they kept some of the trees. That was a sheer stroke of genius, if I do say so myself. The trees grow leaves in the spring to provide beauty and shade in the summer. In the autumn they fall to the ground and form a natural blanket to keep moisture in the soil and protect the trees and bushes. Plus, as they rot, the leaves form compost to enhance the soil. It’s a natural circle of life.

ST. FRANCIS: You’d better sit down, Lord. The Suburbanites have drawn a new circle. As soon as the leaves fall, they rake them into great piles and pay to have them hauled away.

GOD: No. What do they do to protect the shrub and tree roots in the winter and to keep the soil moist and loose?

ST. FRANCIS: After throwing away the leaves, they go out and buy something which they call mulch. They haul it home and spread it around in place of the leaves.

GOD: And where do they get this mulch?

ST. FRANCIS: They cut down trees and grind them up to make the mulch.

GOD: Enough! I don’t want to think about this anymore. St. Catherine, you’re in charge of the arts. What movie have you scheduled for us tonight?

ST. CATHERINE: Dumb and Dumber, Lord. It’s a real stupid movie about …

GOD: Never mind, I think I just heard the whole story from St. Francis.

~~~

Rest is not idleness, and to lie sometimes on the grass on a summer day listening to the murmur of water, or watching the clouds float across the sky, is hardly a waste of time.

John Lubbock

~~~

Stay well, do good work, and have fun.

Ray Mitchell

Indianapolis, Indiana

Management is not responsible for duplicates from previous dailies. The editor is somewhat senile.

This daily is sent only to special people who want to start their day on an upbeat. If you have system overload because of our daily clutter, let me know and I will send you the information via mental telepathy. If you have not been getting our daily you can request to be added by e-mailing me at raykiwsp@gmail.com. Back issues are posted at https://raykiwsp.wordpress.com/ currently there are about 2000 readers from around the world.

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