ORIGINAL ART & POETRY BY PAUL & KATHY BOECHER©

Summer has definitely hit the ground running in my neighborhood. For the past couple weeks we’ve been treated to temperatures in the 80s and above. The ground is filled with all sorts of surprises – especially weeds. Summertime has been referred to as a time of easy living – vacations – enjoying nature and soaking every ounce of sunshine you can, before the winter winds return. This painting of Paul’s is indicative of a different time altogether – when the living was a lot easier. We would remove our shoes, run swiftly over hot pavement or sand and refresh our hot, little toes in a lake or river. You could almost see the steam rising from the water. We’d eat popsicles frozen in ice cube trays. We might bait a line and drop it in the water. An old tire, tied to a strong branch would allow those who dared to swing high and land in the same water. Ahhh . . . the good old days.

Every generation has their opinion on those good old days. I remember reading about Tom Sawyer and his adventures with Huckleberry Finn, floating down the river on a handmade raft. I have visions of a large paddle boat, filled with tourists and gamblers just living the easy life. I guess the only thing that’s really changed is our POV. Things move much faster today. Taking time to slow down – to smell the roses – to enjoy the beauty of nature – to relax and let our troubles float away like Tom Sawyer’s raft. There’s a lot to be said for those good old days, but there are advantages never dreamed of in the new, good old days. We still want that quiet life, even if it’s just for an hour. Slow down, relax, enjoy. It’s summer!

The muddy waters are stirred by the giant paddle wheel,

Steam pours from the smokestack,

The craft easily cuts through the river,

Gliding, coasting, dancing across the glasslike surface,

Encroaching on music from a choir of croaking frogs,

Standing firm within the winds of a summer storm,

Ever staunch,

While pouring out great effort,

Within this workhorse, inside its protected cabins,

Are stories yet untold,

Gamblers, wayfarers, moguls, those in hope of a different life,

The best and worst of society,

This belle of the water is a symbol of another time,

A quieter, more peaceful time,

A time when the sound of the paddle,

Gave way only to the sounds of nature,

Oh, for those long-lost days.

THANK YOU, JESUS, FOR ANOTHER DAY!