Words for Wednesday: love is blue

Whenever I notice something blue, an old song from the late 1960’s entitled Love is Blue, (music composed by André Popp, French lyrics by Pierre Cour, and English lyrics by Bryan Blackburn) pops into my mind.

To me, the music sounds somewhat ethereal, almost haunting. I can remember loving to play the piece on the piano as a teenager and I still have the sheet music somewhere.

The lyrics to that song are sad and melancholy, telling the woeful tale of lost love.  “Blue, blue, my world is blue. Blue is my world, now I’m without you” are the opening lines.

Blue is always associated with feeling down, sad, lonely, or downright depressed. But for me, the color blue doesn’t have the same connotations.

Blue is one of my favorite colors and when paired with my absolute favorite, yellow, those two together just make me cheerful and happy.  I get a mental picture of bright yellow daffodils or vivid yellow sunflowers against a brilliantly blue sky. So beautiful.

I also love the clean, crisp look of blue enhanced with white. Wedgewood china comes to my mind. And Chinese porcelain or Holland’s delftware, or French toile fabric with blue designs. Again so very lovely.

In two different houses where we lived in the past (in the Midwest and the Pacific Northwest), our kitchen colors were blue and white. And even though I’m not that fond of cooking, I enjoyed being in those kitchens because of their décor color.  

Blue. When I see it, I’m definitely not feeling blue.

Blue is calming to me and I find myself drawn to blue in nature…blue skies, blue water, blue on a bird, blue flowers.

It’s one of the reasons I wanted a hydrangea – a blue one, of course – planted in our yard several years ago. When it blooms in late summer, I just want to sit and gaze at its gorgeous color because I love it so much.

For me, love IS blue. Big blossoms of blue. How could anyone feel blue looking at these?

“Blue thou art, intensely blue; Flower, whence came thy dazzling hue?” ~ James Montgomery

©2019 mamasemptynest.wordpress.com

 

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A quiet spot

Sometimes you just want and need a little peace and quiet. A serene spot to just sit yourself down and rest. A tranquil moment or perhaps an hour or so in an undisturbed place, far from the maddening crowd.

Papa and I found quite a few of those moments and places on our Maryland trip and we were so grateful for them.

We have three grandchildren who are the apples of our eyes. We don’t get to interact on a regular basis with two of them because they live several hours away from us. But our oldest, she’s with us quite a bit since we watch her while her nurse mommy works different hospital shifts.

And as much as we love our oldest grandchild, our house becomes noisy and chaotic when that four-year-old reigns.  She keeps us busy, entertained, and hopping up and down by playing with her or taking care of her needs. And this old empty nest rings with laughter, shrieking, and noisy clomping of feet while we play endless rounds of hide and seek and chase. 

But it also tires me out and I find I need a respite from time to time. That’s why Papa and I anticipated a relaxing little trip away from home and hoped to find some soothing scenes of serenity. Thank goodness we succeeded.

After we left the busyness of Baltimore and Annapolis, we crossed the Chesapeake Bay Bridge, not to be confused with the Chesapeake Bay Bridge Tunnel in Virginia. We have also traveled through that one a time or two and frankly, it freaks me out going under water in that long 20-mile tunnel.

But the Bay Bridge in Maryland is only a 4.3 miles long span above water and connects the urban western shore of the bay with the more rural eastern shore, which was our destination.  

Once we crossed the bridge, we stopped on a peninsula where we found the Chesapeake Heritage and Visitor’s Center. In addition to Maryland travel information, the center also housed a small but interesting museum.

But this little spot offered so much more. We climbed a circular staircase outside to the top of the building’s tower and surveyed the scene before us – wetlands and a 530-foot boardwalk over the marshy area and leading to a trail in Ferry Point Park.

The paved trail was an enjoyable, easy one-mile walk and it took us to a small beach area with a picnic table and park bench and we were the only people there.

Ahh…just the spot to spend some soothing, restful time.  I don’t even think we talked much to each other. We just embraced the solitude, listened to the birds singing and the rhythmic sound of the water, and felt the gentle breeze in our hair and the sun on our faces.

 That’s what I call a vacation.

“It isn’t how much time you spend somewhere that makes it memorable: it’s how you spend the time.” ~ David Brenner

©2019 mamasemptynest.wordpress.com

So Big

In the right background, notice that huge boat!

Back in the day when Mama’s Empty Nest wasn’t empty, when our children were babies, we used to play a little game with them, a game I continued with the grandbabies.

“How big is baby?” we would croon. And baby would lift up his/her arms overhead and we would clap and say, Sooooooo big!

While we were on our week-long Maryland trip back in June, I was tempted to repeat that phrase over and over again. Sooooooo big!

Before we left Annapolis and drove down the eastern side of the Chesapeake Bay, we purchased tickets for another harbor cruise.  Cruising on a boat is a relaxing and refreshing way to see sights from a different perspective on a warm summer day.

We weren’t disappointed as we had the opportunity to view the US Naval Academy from the water, including the area where the naval midshipmen learn to sail.

Prior to boarding our bay cruise, Papa and I noticed a huge boat – well, you couldn’t call it a boat because it was so immense. But not being a nautical person, I called it a boat. I imagined the proper term was yacht.  Sooooooo big!

“Anyone who has to ask about the annual upkeep of a yacht can’t afford one.” ~ J. P. Morgan

While on our way back to shore, our cruise captain pointed out that yacht anchored in the harbor. This wasn’t just any, everyday yacht though; I found out later it’s actually called a “super-yacht.”

That mega opulent super-yacht definitely dwarfed all the other vessels in the harbor. Matter of fact, our boat captain told us it was the largest privately-owned vessel he’d ever seen in the Annapolis harbor. Sooooooo big!

That 240-foot long luxury liner, named the Hasna, is owned by a very wealthy Australian, a multi-millionaire.  According to information I gleaned from internet research, this vessel accommodates up to 12 guests overnight in six cabins: a master suite, one VIP stateroom, two double cabins, and two twin cabins.

Just to make sure everyone on board has a “relaxed luxury” experience, the super-yacht can also carry up to 21 crew members.  Amenities listed on-board include a helipad, on-deck Jacuzzi, elevator, infinity swimming pool, interior sun deck for parties, bar-be-que, gym, movie theater, hair salon, and spa. In American currency, the Hasna reportedly cost $100 million. You read that correctly, $100 MILLION. Sooooooo big!

Of course, I had to snap a bunch of photos at something I’d never seen in my life and probably never will again. (Slide show below) I’m not sure my pictures truly give you an idea of the size of that super-yacht though.  But let me tell you, it was sooooooo big! 

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Just last week, I learned that the Hasna is up for sale for around $110.3 million, give or take a few hundred thousand, in US currency. Anyone have several million dollars lying around and want to purchase a super-yacht? It’s sooooooo big!

For a look at the super-yacht’s features, click on this site.

“Money can’t buy you happiness, but it can buy you a yacht big enough to pull up right alongside it.” ~ David Lee Roth

©2019 mamasemptynest.wordpress.com

 

Words for Wednesday: I spy osprey

Often when we’re traveling with our oldest grandchild by automobile, she and I play a game of I Spy. “I spy with my little eye…” one of us says followed by some kind of clue like “…something red.”  Then a guessing round begins. She’s become quite good at this game and it’s a good lesson for this Nana too.

While traveling, I do try to spy with my little eye. I keep on the watch for unusual things in view or catch a glimpse at sightings that make for a good photo op with my camera. 

Our Maryland trip was no exception. I spied many interesting aspects with my own two eyes.

While on-board two different cruises in the Chesapeake Bay, I captured a few shots of ospreys, often called sea hawks.   The photo above was taken in the Baltimore harbor on an overcast day after a deluge of rain, which gave the water a gray cast and made the birds hard to see. 

It’s quite a contrast from this picture I captured while on an Annapolis harbor cruise on a beautiful, sunny day. If you look closely to the right of the green and white marker, you will spy an osprey sitting in its nest.

I was amazed at where the osprey built their nests out in the middle of the water. So far away from humans, that’s for sure. Can you blame them?

But they still must leave their nests to gather up some grub as they soar into the air on wings and swoop down to the water to nab a fish for dinner.

Do you suppose birds are thankful for their wings? I surely am when I step out of my comfort zone and spread my ‘wings’ by traveling to places I’ve not visited before.

“A bird in a nest is secure, but that is not why God gave it wings.” ~ Matshona Dhliwayo

©2019 mamasemptynest.wordpress.com

 

When country meets city

Being a country girl has its firm roots in me. I grew up in a rural area about five miles outside of my hometown.

My playground wasn’t one of concrete, swings, sliding boards, and monkey bars. My playground was a four-acre yard with apple, peach, and plum trees and a tiny stream of water running through it.

My swinging consisted of a hammock in the shade of the apple trees and a front-porch swing. But I didn’t stay in my country home.

After a couple of decades living in the suburbs of big cities, Papa and I decided to move back to our home state and build a house in the country, just a few miles from my childhood home. And I’ve been a happy camper ever since.

I’m not a fan of city life. I can appreciate a day in the city, seeing sights, taking in worthwhile spots to visit, enjoying a fine dinner, but the noise, the traffic, and just the sheer amount of people on the sidewalks makes me yearn for a simpler place to be.

And even though cities aren’t my cup of tea, we’ve visited plenty of them across the nation – from New York City to Los Angeles, Seattle to Dallas to Boston, and many in between.  I’m grateful for the enjoyable times we had in those metropolises, but I always repeat that old saying to myself, “It’s a nice place to visit, but I wouldn’t want to live there.”

My intention here is not to offend city-dwellers; I know many people relish the hustle and bustle of the big city and are happy there. And vacations to metropolitan areas thrill scads of folks. Me, not so much; my idea of a perfect vacation is somewhere calm and serene, away from all the busyness of urban life.

In June, Papa and I embarked on that last-minute, spur-of-the moment week-long trip I’ve been writing about in the last few posts. We needed a little rest and relaxation, some spots for peaceful reflection but yet some noteworthy places to visit. However, we didn’t want to travel far, so we headed south to Maryland.

After our outing on the Western Maryland Scenic Railroad, we drove east to Baltimore, a city Papa’s been to before and I’ve been through and flown out of the airport there but never actually toured. After spending a morning at Fort McHenry (which I wrote about here), we drove downtown Baltimore to the Inner Harbor.

A couple of years ago, when we visited Boston, Papa got to board the USS Constitution, so he really wanted to see the USS Constellation moored in Baltimore as well. If Papa had a bucket list, visiting those two grand old historic ships would be on it.

USS Constellation (upper left, lower right); Baltimore Inner Harbor area (upper right); and Seven Foot Knoll Lighthouse (lower left)

Since we arrived at the Inner Harbor on a Monday afternoon, it wasn’t too crowded and I was a happy girl about that. No doubt the deluge of rain that lasted for over 30 minutes also probably ran off some tourists. We hunkered down in a parking garage, waiting for the downpour to stop before we wandered up and down the harbor area.

After seeing the Constellation and three other historic ships, including a submarine, we also saw the Seven Foot Knoll Lighthouse, the oldest screw-pile lighthouse in Maryland.

After that, we decided to take a 45-minute narrated harbor cruise which proved to be an enjoyable and relaxing way to see some of Baltimore’s harbor sights. We also ate a delicious early dinner in the area where Papa was content to chow down on seafood.

Since we were driving to our next destination that evening, we headed out of Baltimore. Well, we tried to leave Baltimore, but it was the peak of rush hour. Actually, we just attempted to get out of the parking garage onto a street where absolutely no one would let us out. The traffic was heavy and congested and too crazy for me.

Finally, Papa just plunged right into the thick of traffic. Relieved that my husband (former city dweller and sales rep seasoned to navigate in heavy traffic which never seems to rattle him in the least) was driving, I cringed in the passenger seat, closed my eyes, and prayed we’d get the “heck out of Dodge” safely. We did almost get hit by a driver changing lanes who obviously didn’t see our vehicle.

Goodbye, city life! I couldn’t wait to get away from the busyness fast enough. And get away we did.  After a stop in Annapolis, we ventured down the eastern coast of the Chesapeake Bay to lovely quiet spots we’ve never seen before.

And I have to think that spending time in the city always makes me appreciate country life all the more.

“The country is lyric, the town dramatic. When mingled, they make the most perfect musical drama.” ~ Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

©2019 mamasemptynest.wordpress.com

Words for Wednesday: amber waves

I captured this shot while strolling around Fort McHenry, a historical and national monument park in the Baltimore, Maryland area. 

It never ceases to amaze me how one single picture when given close attention sends me off in words of inspiration just as this one did.

Steeped in history that morning while touring the old fort, this sight made me remember the words to the patriotic song, America the Beautiful:

O beautiful for spacious skies
For amber waves of grain
For purple mountain majesties
Above the fruited plain!
America! America!
God shed his grace on thee
And crown thy good with brotherhood
From sea to shining sea!

We Americans live in a beautiful country from sea to shining sea. But in recent years, there have been aspects of our country that have been anything but beautiful.

It seems as if we are tearing our beautiful land and what it stands for down with hateful rhetoric, with divisiveness and angry vitriol. Why are we so angry with those who don’t agree with our way of thinking? What happened to that sense of American brotherhood we once had?

My prayer is that we can just agree to disagree and move forward united in gratefulness for this beautiful country of ours.

“The moment one gives close attention to any thing, even a blade of grass it becomes a mysterious, awesome, indescribably magnificent world in itself.” ~  Henry Miller

©2019 mamasemptynest.wordpress.com

 

O’er the ramparts

It’s August. The 4^th of July is over, Flag Day (June 14) is long past, and Memorial Day an even more distant memory but the American flag still flies from our front porch.

Some folks only display our country’s red, white, and blue on those holidays with maybe Veteran’s Day tossed in. But at our house, the flag waves from its post yearlong.

I can’t remember exactly when Papa and I decided Ol’ Glory should always remain outside our home come whatever season, whatever weather, day or night, but I know we’ve already worn out one flag and put it to rest as custom and respect dictates.

Our flag flying might be attributed to the fact that my husband is a military veteran and our family is proud and thankful for his service to our country and that flag.  Or it may also be attributed to the history buffs in our family – namely Papa and Middle Daughter.

In any case, we’re a grand old flag flying family. A few years ago, our family’s Australian friends came to the United States to visit and as they traveled around the country, they kept track of how many American flags they spotted flapping in the breeze.  They were surprised as the number increased significantly on their journey and I can only deduce that they don’t see Australian flags in abundance in their own country.

All of these thoughts meander through my mind since one of the stops we made on our week-long venture from home in June was Fort McHenry in Baltimore, Maryland If you’re not familiar with this historical site, during the War of 1812, American soldiers at this coastal fort successfully defended Baltimore Harbor in the Chesapeake Bay from the British navy. 

After the battle finally ended, a large American flag was raised over the fort demonstrating British defeat and American perseverance.

Watching the bombardment of Fort McHenry from a truce ship in the nearby Patapsco River, Frances Scott Key witnessed the flag hoisted into the air and was inspired to write a lengthy poem about the red, white, and blue. Eventually that first verse of his poem became the familiar lyrics to our American national anthem, the Star-Spangled Banner.  To read the poem in its entirety, click here.

It was a misty, slightly rainy morning as we toured this national park/monument and yet our country’s flag waved overhead.  We shared our time with a few busloads of elementary-aged school children on one of those end-of-the-year field trips and it was tricky to snap photos without getting the students in view.

But amidst all the running and climbing and yelling performed by the children, Papa and I managed to enjoy our tour. We walked around the parameter of the pentagonal-shaped fort, o’er the ramparts, so to speak.

We found a few serene moments just gazing out at the Chesapeake Bay and imagining a fierce battle taking place all those many years ago. And I felt awe and respect for that American spirit of battling for freedom and what is right that those who fought on that ground had done.

But the best part of all for me, the most awe-inspiring moment of the morning, was inside the visitor center. We rested on benches in a small, darkened theater-like area watching a short documentary video detailing the battle at Fort McHenry and the story behind Frances Scott Key witnessing the grand ol’ flag still flying.

At the end of the video, the Star Spangled Banner began to play. Each person stood in respect; some of us placed our hands over our hearts as we listened to those old words that most Americans know by heart.

O say, can you see, by the dawn’s early light,
What so proudly we hailed at the twilight’s last gleaming?
Whose broad stripes and bright stars, through the perilous fight,
O’er the ramparts we watched, were so gallantly streaming!
And the rockets’ red glare, the bombs bursting in air,
Gave proof through the night that our flag was still there:
O say, does that star-spangled banner yet wave
O’er the land of the free and the home of the brave?

As we faced the large screen where the video had informed us and listened to our national anthem playing, the screen lifted up into the ceiling and in its place, we faced an entire wall of large, floor to ceiling plate glass windows…overlooking outside where the American flag proudly waved.

I was too awe-struck to even pull my camera up to my eye and snap a photo.

Call me sentimental. Call me patriotic. Call me proud to be an American. Call me however you wish to categorize me, but the sight choked me up and tears overflowed as I listened to those words and music while gazing at my country’s symbol of freedom.

It was a moment I won’t soon forget. We may have our struggles in this country. We may not all see eye to eye on a variety of issues. We have our virtues and we have our faults.

But I wouldn’t want to live anywhere else but this land, the land of the free and the home of the brave. America, God shed His grace on thee.

“There is nothing wrong in America that can’t be fixed with what is right in America.” ~ former President Bill Clinton in his first inaugural address, 1992

©2019 mamasemptynest.wordpress.com

 

 

Message from Bob White

On the first day of Christmas, my true love gave to me…a partridge in a pear tree.

Okay, I know, it’s NOT Christmas. But you know, there are only 148 days until the holiday is upon us. You really wanted to know that, right?

But this post isn’t about Christmas although something did occur last week at our country home that made me think of that old Christmas carol and those particular words.

See that photo above? A partridge in a pear tree. Okay, it’s not a pear tree, it’s an Alberta Blue Spruce and it’s a shrub in our front yard.

And yes, that’s not a partridge either. But it is a Northern Bobwhite Quail. And it’s the very first time ever in my life, I’ve seen this species of bird up close and personal.

As a child growing up, I often heard these birds give their call from far off. My parents would say, ”Oh, listen, there’s a Bob White.”

That’s what we always called them – Bob Whites. As opposed to Bob Greens or Bob Browns. Why were they named thusly? Because their particular way of whistling sounds like they are vocalizing the words, “bob white.” Click here to hear one.

As a kid, I would attempt to whistle “bob white” back to them to see if they answered me. Usually they did not, probably because I wasn’t a very proficient whistler.

I never knew Bobwhites were really a variety of quail until recently when I searched the all-the-information-you-wanted-to-know highway called the internet.

On one of the cooler days this month, our inside front door was open to allow refreshing air to circulate through our home via the screen door.  My attention focused on the computer keyboard while writing a blog post, I suddenly became aware of that distinctive call.

“Bob White! Bob White!” It sounded very, very near. The sound registered in my mind but I continued at my task.

Then once again I heard “Bob White! Bob White! Bob White!” rather insistently and again awfully close to our front porch. So I pushed back the desk chair, stood up, and strode to the window thinking I’d see that bird in our front yard tree or maybe noshing at the suet cake holder.

Nothing. No Bob White to be found. Back to the computer, I resumed typing.

“Bob White! Bob White! Bob White!” Loudly, that bird was calling to me.

Our daughter and granddaughter happened to be here at Mama’s empty nest, so I asked Daughter, “Do you hear that?”

She replied affirmatively, walked to the front door, peered outside, and quickly informed me that the noisy bird was perched atop one of our shrubs.

Well, you know what I did. I grabbed my camera and tried to capture a shot of it through the screen door. Not a good angle and the pesky screen was in the way as well.

Very certain I would scare the bird away when I opened the screen door, I stepped outside anyway and was surprised when that noisy fellow did not move. I focused and clicked. It just turned its head and began calling again,  “Bob White! Bob White!”

I inched closer. Click. Another step. Click. Mr. Bob White barely moved. Just kept whistling away.

Fearing that if I proceeded any further he would fly away, I paused.  Bob White looked straight at me.  Gently in the quietest voice I could muster, I asked him, “Are you alright?”

I feared that he might be hurt, maybe a damaged wing, or something that was keeping him perched on top of that blue spruce instead of fleeing from the presence of a human.

“Are you hurt?” I whispered again. “Do you need help?”

“Bob White!” was his reply.

“I know who you are,” I affirmed. “I just want to know if you are injured.”

He took another look at me and decided it was time to move on. Off he flew and I was left in astonishment. My family was also surprised I managed to not only get close to that quail but speak to it also.

Just call me the “bird whisperer.”

I’m not sure what Bob White was trying to convey to me. I have no idea why he decided to perch on that shrub by our front porch. In the 19 years we have lived here, I’ve never seen bobwhite quails at our home, but I have heard them.

It seemed strange that the quail came so close to our house. It was almost like he wanted my attention for some reason. Perhaps I am a bird whisperer, but so far, I haven’t been able to actually understand bird language, so I couldn’t interpret what he was imparting to me.

Later, as I pondered this rare little snippet of life, I wondered why did Bob White come to my house?

There’s a Chinese proverbs that says, “A bird does not sing because it has an answer.  It sings because it has a song.”

It’s true Bob White didn’t have an answer for me; he just stopped by to voice his song. And maybe there’s a message in that.

I don’t have answers for why things happen the way they do. I don’t know why we struggle with disappointments, illnesses, things that just make us weep. I don’t understand occurrences in the world that make me shake my head in disbelief.

But I do know that my God is in control – of all things, even Bob White – and I can place my complete trust in the God who sees and knows all.

I also do know the Lord’s given me my own “song” to sing – a knack for writing this very blog. Maybe this was what Bob White tried to tell me.

“Use what talent you possess: the woods would be very silent if no birds sang except those that sang best.”  ~Author unknown.

©2019 mamasemptynest.wordpress.com

Be still…then move on

Fresh strawberries from our own patch

One of the delightful aspects of country life is that we have plenty of room for gardens on our 2.25 acres.  Flower gardens surround the perimeter of our house with quite an assortment of perennials. A garden of blueberry bushes provides a bounty of berries every year at this time.

And a vegetable garden, which Papa plants and tends each spring and summer, graces our back yard. He provides the hard labor, I get to help harvest, and we both enjoy the abundance of fresh produce right from our plot of land.

During my blogging break of just being still, our garden provided good food for my stomach (as evidenced in my photos here) while my mind produced good thoughts for writing once more.

This year, Papa’s new strawberry plants, placed in the soil last year, produced delicious berries. Often we just ate them straight from the garden; other times we topped a breakfast waffle with them. Scrumptious with a spritz of whipped cream.

Our early peas were, by far, the sweetest and tastiest peas we’ve ever eaten, so Papa made note of what kind of seeds he planted so we can try them again next year.

Fresh peas from our own garden

Unfortunately, that plot of ground supplying our garden goodies attracts wildlife to our salad bar, so every year, Papa must erect some fencing around it to keep out the marauding deer.

But the rabbits easily burrow under the fence so we’re fighting them off as best we can. Those green beans, cucumber, tomato, and pumpkin plants prove just too tempting for the critters but we’re attempting to beat them to the goodies.

During my blogging sojourn, I truly relished watching our garden grow, thankful for the rain and sunshine that nourished it, and for the goodies that in turn nourish us.

We not only need food for our bodies, we need food for our souls and that’s just what I accomplished during my writing break.

Today is the last in my series of “Be Still” posts. Just as I moved on from my blogging hiatus and once again plunked myself down at the keyboard with more words to express, I’m moving forward with more posts on a variety of subjects as inspiration comes.

I do hope you will visit and revisit my blog as I continue writing my garden of words here in this virtual world just like Papa and I visit and revisit our garden in the real world.

“I used to visit and revisit it a dozen times a day, and stand in deep contemplation over my vegetable progeny with a love that nobody could share or conceive of who had never taken part in the process of creation.  It was one of the most bewitching sights in the world to observe a hill of beans thrusting aside the soil, or a rose of early peas just peeping forth sufficiently to trace a line of delicate green.”
–   Nathaniel Hawthorne, Mosses from and Old Manse

©2019 mamasemptynest.wordpress.com

Be still…shine on

When conditions were favorable – cool and without rain – I did some moon gazing during my blogging break of just being still.

Some nights the moon seemed so very iridescent, a shining orb in the night sky – large and seeming near to the earth.  Yet some nights only a quarter of it was apparent like I captured in the photo above and its brilliance wasn’t as noticeable.

Yet the moon shined on.

Often when I look up into the dark expanse of night sky and spy the moon there, an old lullaby comes to my mind. I don’t know who taught it to me but I suspect it was either my mother or my maternal grandmother.

All I know is that it has been in my memory bank for as long as I can remember and it’s a song I used to croon to my own children when they were babies and I rocked them to sleep.

I see the moon, the moon sees me
Shining through the leaves of the old oak tree
Please let the light that shines on me
Shine on the one I love.

Over the mountain, over the sea,
Back where my heart is longing to be
Please let the light that shines on me
Shine on the one I love.

I often sing that song in my mind when my eyes behold the moon in its brilliance. And I think how that same moon shines down on the ones I love, even those who live so far away from me.

During my blogging break, it was no different, but other thoughts crossed my mind as well. Knowing the 50^th anniversary of Apollo 11’s moon landing was nearing, I thought back to that time, all those years ago.

When man first landed and walked on the moon, I was 15 years old. I truly was fascinated by it all. I remember planting myself in front of the one television set we owned situated in our living room and watching with my parents while that momentous event unfolded on our black and white TV screen.

I spent hours cutting out newspaper and magazine clippings about the moon landing and pasting them in my scrapbook. It seemed so incredible. Such an exciting thing to witness in my lifetime.

In the years since then when I gaze upon the moon, I think about those astronauts first stepping onto it. What courage they seemed to have. What adventurers they were.

And I think of their footprints still embedded on the surface of the moon these many years later. Signs that they were there, that they made their mark, that their endeavors will be remembered. A legacy they left for all of mankind.

I’m not famous like the astronauts. I’ve not accomplished something noteworthy that will be inscribed in any history books. Most likely, after I pass from this earth, only my family and perhaps a handful of others will even remember me, and most likely, generations to come will only remember my name, if that.

But what I do here in my time of life on this planet called Earth still matters. How I love my family matters. How I treat my friends and strangers alike still matters. What I write in this blog matters. Because if one person is encouraged by what I say, or do, or write, I’ve made my mark.

Just as surely as those astronauts who have gone to somewhere no man had gone before.

The moon will continue to shine on those who come after me. I can only hope what I do shines on as well.

“We all shine on, like the moon and the stars and the sun…” ~ John Lennon

©2019 mamasemptynest.wordpress.com