A SALUTE TO JULY!

“I drifted into a summer nap under the hot shade of July, 

serenaded by a cicada lullaby,

to drowsy-warm dreams of distant thunder.”  

—Terri Guillemets* 

I think I might be the only person who sadly hates to see the end of June. For me, it means we’ve moved one-third closer to the end of summer as we enter the Dog Days of Summer and July.

I’ve always thought of summer as June, July, and August. Oddly, I have never considered September as a month belonging to the season, yet a portion of it is. I think it’s a throwback from youth when we started school the end of August. Summer was a time when we were free from long bus rides, lugging books from school to home and back, doing homework, and abiding by a strict daily routine. Summer was truly a time to smell the roses in bloom and eat handfuls of sun-warmed berries growing wild along the roads or in farm pastures.

July is the month of movement. We have the Fourth of July to celebrate, complete with outdoor get-togethers, music, and sparkling fireworks. In the U.S., the month is packed with fairs, festivals, carnivals, and arts and crafts shows. There are celebrations for almost every day of the month, including special days for hotdogs, raspberries, and cheesecake. July 23^rd is National Day of the Cowboy while July  27th is Take Your Houseplants for a Walk Day.         

While July’s average temperatures make it the hottest month of the year in the Northern Hemisphere, it is also the coldest month on average in the Southern Hemisphere. In the northern states like Pennsylvania, July is a time for vacationing and trips to our nation’s beaches, rivers, and parks to engage in activities like swimming, boating, water skiing, hiking, geo-caching, and more.

July is a unique month with its ruby gemstone, symbolizing love, passion and courage. The larkspur and water lily are the state flowers. The full moon in July this year occur on the 10^th and is called the “Buck Moon” because the antlers of male dear (bucks) are in full-growth mode at this time. July is often considered the middle of summer where there is nothing like its sunny days to remind you of how wonderful life can be.                                       

*(NOTE: Terri Guillemets is the pen name
of Terri A. Woodhull,a quotation anthologist
born in 1973 in Phoenix, Arizona.)

 

       LINK to my AMAZON AUTHOR PAGE  

DECEMBER ~ Bringing Home the Christmas Tree

“Who we are is where we’ve been, who are parents are, where we lived, who are friends were and are. All these influence what we see and how we see it, how we talk and what we say, how we think and what we think about, what we believe and what we value. We are our histories.”  
                                  ~ Jerry Apps, Renowned storyteller, author, educator and historian
                                                                                               ~ from Living a Country Year

As December rolls around, often into a snowy wonderland for northern states’ residents like myself, we look forward to holidays and the simple joys of country living. When I was growing up, it was an exciting time for farm kids to get the family Christmas tree. Never was there any discussion about visiting a Christmas tree farm or buying one. Bundled up and with boots on, we trudged through the white stuff, searching our own woodlands for an evergreen tree to fit in its rightful place in the corner of our dining room. Even a less-than-stellar, often lopsided, Charlie-Brown-like pine or spruce tree would do. After all, we were going to position it with its best side looking outward, weren’t we?

Our ornaments were glass, shiny, and old—and in all the colors of the rainbow along with silver, white, pink and other variations. We also had small plastic Rudolph reindeer ornaments to add to the seasonal vibe. Mother usually let us decorate without any interference, except with the warning not to throw the icicles on the tree, as we were apt to do as we tired of the final step. The plug for the light was one set into the floor. We were also sternly reminded not to drop anything into it—like tiny metal hangers used to fasten the bulbs on the branches. 

The tinsel on the tree was silver and thinner those fluffy ones of today and served to help hide the holes between the branches. Our colored light bulbs each had a reflector with mirrors on each point of the star to send up a dazzling display. Beneath the tree was a white skirt with a manger scene and a score of cardboard houses where a bulb from a string of lights could be inserted in the back of each to illuminate the vivid paper windows. On top, a lighted angel sat looking out and guarding our cozy farmhouse. When we finished, our tree was sometimes gaudy, but always a lovable one. The lights were a merry sight to behold when lit in the evening. The fresh pine scented the air with a pleasing, clean smell. 

Now, with the multitude of new and various holiday decorations for trees and our homes, I wonder whether we’ve lost the true delight and excitement of digging out all the boxes with old treasured ornaments and re-engaging in the fun of discovering familiar things that were so much part of our past and traditions. The humble tree reflected a multitude of joys in many Christmas celebrations of long ago.  

It truly was a part of who were, where we’ve been, how and where we lived, what we believed, and what we valued. It was our histories.

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to all!

Award-winning novella, ADELENE ~THE VIOLINIST, 

is Book 2, in the “Musical Christmas Series,” and took first place in the
2023 Oklahoma Romance Writers’ of America Contemporary Short Awards. 

Just $1.99

Will Adelene Almanza discover the long-forgotten secrets of the old schoolhouse 

hidden away in its boarded-up attic? And will the sparks of love 

ignite a second time for her and a long ago love?