Saturday, August 28, 2010

September Songs of Autumn Sunday Drives

Families enjoy their country drives and Sunday picnics,
When the Autumn breeze turns so cool and crisp.
Packing up toys and pets; blankets and drumsticks;
To play in meadows, picking flowers and lakes to fish.

Sunshine painting laughter, igniting precious smiles,
They play until the clouds of blue turn to orange skies
Chasing daytime butterflies to catching neon fireflies
Collecting many blessings from simple country drives.

All along the winding lane they talk of future dreams.
Little noses smashed on windows, hopeful just to see,
Carefully watching every tree blowing in the breeze
To glimpse a baby eagle, sitting under scarlet leaves.

I hold a framed aged-old memory; babies on a seashore.
Salty tears rain down; remembering how they've grown.
To serve the greater cause our soldiers marched to war.
I beg of God for mercy, bring our heroes safe and home.
To have a chance to live, to love, to picnic in the sun
And Autumn Sunday drives with families of their own.

- Terri Bonney

ritten in honor of my son who serves in the U.S. Army as a Medevac Pilot.

Friday, August 20, 2010


Some days I’m not so sure what’s ahead for me.
Others are paced in positive steps toward a definite goal.

So on and on, the life, it goes
Forever making gardens grow.

Today, as usual - like any other Monday thru Friday - the alarm sounds off as expected at the appropriately set time of 0445 hours. As always, I just start singing along with whatever song is currently playing on the radio. I hate that! I wish my head was wired to recognize the fact that I’m not in a rock band; I’m not the one singing that song - I’m dreaming! Unless, the volume is set to maximum level, daring the speakers to blow out; I just snuggle in deeper and dream away.

I’ve tried all kinds of alarms. When using a wind-up, Big Ben ringing bell: most times, I hear the screaming of big, long, red-colored fire trucks racing their engines down the road. Which to my sleeping brain, this is okay. Why, because those trucks traveling at high speeds, ringing out the piercing warnings are doing exactly what they are supposed to be doing. Putting out a fire! Somehow, the fire has incorporated into my sleeping brain. A nightmare by any standard, this strange scenario has become the object of my dream, containing a high-speed chase that has become a thrill-seeking rush to put the fire out!

Being the music lover that I am, it really doesn’t matter what station is tuned in on the alarm. I’m always a singer in that band! And, why is it, whether I’m awake or dreaming, when I sing along with a song inside my head, I know all the words; I can carry a perfect tune, and I am always on key. In fact, I sound just like the artist. However, if I were to sing the song out-loud: I would not remember one word, I would not remember the tune, and to tell the truth, I can’t identify a musical key from a door key?

I’ve tried several alarms at once, but then I dream I’m living back in the heart of Dallas. The blaring chaos somehow makes me happy as I listen to the ‘life’ that is marching on. Everyone having a different drummer is somehow poetic to my sleeping mind. You’d think this would be a disturbance, but no, this too will get worked somehow into a dream.

Even my dog has to threaten me with extreme growling as his massive front paw punches and scratches the side of the bed. If I had a rooster out in the yard, maybe the crowing would wake him up and then I’d be out of bed on time, or at the very least when the sun came up! However, there are some fundamental problems with this idea. I don’t want a rooster! I’m not even sure I like roosters. But, the dog can’t tell time unless you count ‘potty-time’ nor does he care when the sun comes up.

By nature, I like to live life somewhere around the midnight hour. By habit, I’ve tried to twist my waking hours into conforming to the daylight hours. I love the outdoors, well the outdoors in my backyard where my garden grows. Even with the heat and humidity, I love to watch things grow. So, I’m out there in the marvelous sunshine with all those bees and butterflies. Buzzing around, fluttering, floating to and fro, roaming about doing their jobs, looking for the sweet sustenance of nectar, and pollen, as well as the lady who sprays water on them, upsetting their mealtimes. Confession: sometimes, I do enjoy that activity when watering my garden.

Every spring I plant a garden, almost all of it in containers. Why all those expensive, large containers and not the actual ground when planting perennials? Because of a kind of dirt, actually mined for roads and such. This red, earthy, full of rocks, harder than concrete stuff, is called chert, and we bought two acres of this lovely stuff! According to the website, the pioneering people used chert to make tools and weapons. If the chert is of a darker color, it is often called flint. But, nonetheless, getting back to my garden, it’s full of flowers, various herbs, and an assortment of tropicals, and a variety of small, potted trees. Even though, the aforementioned bees go for the pollen of much tastier flowers; I usually plant one tomato bush which will never produce fruit. My garden requires watering every single day, especially since the summer’s average daily temperatures are ranging in the high 90’s. Therefore, it’s a lot more enjoyable to water in the very early, somewhat cooler hours of the morning. I love all my flowers and plants growing in my garden and can’t stand to see one plant perish or wither under the heat because I was too lazy to get my butt out of bed. Consequentially, most days I can drag myself up and out, simply because, I do love and enjoy my garden.

Another reason for me to get up when the alarm sounds-off: most businesses are open during the daytime. There are, of course, exceptions to this rule, an occasional grocery store, gas station or pharmacy will be open 24/7. But, have you ever tried reaching a teacher, a doctor, or a lawyer, or buying a bottle of something containing alcoholic spirits closer to the 0100 hour. It’s just about impossible to conduct any type of business after the 1700 hour.

However, there is one thing that has never failed to get me up in the morning: my husband (literally) will make the bed with ME in it. You see, I really, truly dislike making the bed. This particular responsibility is a horrid, mundane chore, and I have thought so since I was a child and learned the skillful art of bed-making. Moreover, I hate walking in my bedroom and seeing a messy, unmade bed. I swear my mood will drop faster than a pebble in a hundred-foot pond! My husband knows this secret and tragically, he has experienced it. In addition to this, he knows that I would rather loose sleep than make a bed.

So long, long ago, my sweet husband invented a beautiful large white furry rabbit, (something akin to Jimmy Stewart’s Harvey) we affectionately refer to as: “the bed fairy”! The only coin required is to get my big butt out of bed and run as fast as I can to the bathroom sink. I’ve never caught “the bed fairy” but while I am brushing my teeth, that rascally rabbit always visits and leaves me a gorgeously made bed.

So, in summary, singing alarms don’t work so well for me, neither do the Big-Ben bell-ringing-wind-ups, nor does an assortment of differing alarms all set for the ‘let’s ring-out’ together scheme. They just seem to spur my over-active imagination and keep me sleeping peacefully over in dreamland. The dog, he isn’t reliable, just annoying, so he’s automatically cut from the running. The alarm I like the best is the ringing-bell-sounds of the snapping and flapping of the duvet cover as it is jerked away from my tightly fisted hands.

How lucky can a girl be who’s really too old to loose a tooth, except by root canal from a dentist?

Seriously, having two fairies
in one life time is a wonderful gift.
How’s that for extraordinarily good luck?

Now, all I need is to find the “Big Diamond Fairy”.

-Terri L. Bonney