Читать книгу Rover - Barry Blackstone - Страница 12

There is nothing like a day spent in the country. After spending a day like I have today in the city, I long for one more chance to experience a day in my childhood. When I was younger I wished the best days of my life away. So as I set at my desk at the Emmanuel Baptist Church in Ellsworth, Maine, my only relief from this hurried city day is to return in my mind to the pleasant ‘dog days of summer’.

It was hot and humid in the city this morning, but in my country home in Perham, Maine the morning’s coolness is now fondly remembered. Long before the sun began its daily trip over my family’s homestead, the course of my day had already been set. There were early morning chores, and the aroma of a cow barn in the early morning is still one of my favorite smells, including the manure. Returning to the old farm house brought another smell to my nostrils. Near the back door was Mom’s flower garden. As I crossed the short distance between the house and the barn the aromas of the surrounding trees in full spring bloom and Mother’s perennials created a combination of smells unmatched by any botanical garden, and of course following every step of the way was my dog Rover!

After a hardy breakfast, it was back into the freshness of a Maine Day on the farm. No matter how high or hot the sun would get, there always seemed to be a gusty breeze to cool me down. As I went from spot to spot on the farm with my trusted friend by my side, doing whatever needed to be done, I was constantly confronted with the colors of creation. I remember bright-winged butterflies fluttering about, and green grasshoppers jumping about and with every moving insect Ross would either chasing them or snapping at them. I saw multi-colored apple blossoms hanging from the orchard, and big brown bugs hanging from the trees. I see white fluffy cloud floating over head against a brilliant blue sky. I walked in green and white pastures filled with clover watching black and white Holsteins grazing. Periodically, birds of ever shape and size and color would draw my attention skyward again. Pink pigs, cream cats, dark dogs, and rust colored roasters could also be found on the homestead on a typical day. But the best color of all was the black velvet of my faithful companion Rover!

As a day on the homestead neared its end, the air turned cold, and the stars began to appear in the open canvas above. It was then we often went out to the porch for nature’s grand show. Add to the lighting of moonshine and star shine and fireflies, the soprano of the sparrows, the tenor of the crickets, the melody of Rover my dog, and the bass of the bull frogs in a nearby pond, and you had the background music for our night’s entertainment. Against this quartet was the hum of the wind blowing through the trees that surrounded our home. Though we were often joined by millers and moths and an assortment of other bugs attracted by the porch light, we didn’t seem to mind them as we relaxed from a hard day’s work, reflecting on the beauty of the day, and the wonder of living it with a country dog for another day!

What is so nice about remembering such days in my boyhood was the spiritual lesson I was taught very early in my life. I can’t remember if it was my father, my mother, my grandparents or my Sunday school teacher that first pointed out this classic concept from the Psalms: “This is the day which the Lord has made; we will rejoice and be glad in it.” (Psalm 118:24) Each day, every day was a day from the Almighty and we were to rejoice in each of them. What I like best about memory is the fact that a boyhood day spent with your dog can be relived and instead of rejoicing in it once it can be rejoiced in again and again!