I think of springtime and the words I left behind. I see the images now reeling in my mind. Greens of all shades and life springing forth. Now with summer, those images have evolved into various oranges, reds and yellows. Summertime.

When I woke this morning the sun was shining in my eyes and returning again were the words I left behind. Making the most of time is in art form itself. The ground thawed, the clover sprouted, the daffodils came and went and projects needed to be done. Summertime.

My life is made of all the things I find beautiful. Summertime.

Autumn is edging its way ever forward and I still cannot find my feet. Would you agree to meet me summertime? Summertime.

The tasks mounted and I would give to them all my time. The sun was shining on my face and the tasks at times seed rather insurmountable. Summertime.

I sat and left the cravings for more tasks far behind. I enjoyed and listened and smelled and engorged on summertime.

Would the love given to the planting of a seed bring forth all the things I had dreamed? Would it fade as some plants are already starting to do? I would like some lemonade. Summertime.

I walked into the clover and grass with the snap of sandals and mowed it into submission. The flowers that began drying exhausted from the sun are dead headed. Such a fancy sort of life. I will give to you all I can. Summertime.

My eyes grew heavy at the end of day. I tried to stand but I could not find my feet. There was a familiar line emerging from all corners of the garden. Sit, enjoy, love, appreciate. This is for you. Summertime.

The rains have been a blessing and I could take some time off from irrigation. I give to you extra when you need it though. Here, some amendments, here and there. The sun is shining in your eyes now and it is at its strongest. Summertime.

I have a craving for the lazy days now. Oh, yes. I shall rest. Summertime.

First colors of spring

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