Reflections on a summer well spent

Each summer, I retreat to the mountains.
I spend it nestled in a valley of a extinct volcano...

In my parents' old farm house...

By a mountain stream.

 

I spend my summers reading and writing, but also:
Finding old toys...(no comments about hoarders here, please)

 Having fun with family members...

Doing puzzles... 

 Hiking mountains...

Cooking meals...

Listening to old albums...

And taking photographs...

of animals

 

and flowers

 those planted by the wind

And those planted by my mother

I love my summers

 In the mountains

Where I am

Surrounded by trees

Which frame my visual and physical world
And sing a melancholy song 
On windy days 
When their tall thin trunks to scrape together.

I love my summers

 In the mountains

Where I am 

Surrounded by skies

Which dance each night

in technicolor and perform a nightly ritual 

en-robing 

the undulating sea of mountains 

in purple.

I love my summers

 In the mountains

Where I am 

Surrounded by the river

Which an ice age
and 23,000 years of erosion

Has left exposed
A post-volcanic stew
of granitic magma and basalt.

 

I love my summers
For when I am in the mountains
it is always enough.

Inspired by Cynthia Rylant's book, When I was young in the mountains.