My Mother and my Mother’s family were always a musical group. Momma didn’t really play the piano, she more or less played at the piano, her Aunt Lois Did Play and very well. (She was a music teacher for an Idaho school system all her working life), my grandfather played the guitar, his brother played the fiddle, Momma’s Uncle Henry played the Cornet, and my brother played (and still plays the guitar).
My point to all of this is we grew up with music in our every day lives—and we grew up with a radio playing songs. (And we all sang with them…even off key!)
This morning is beautiful here! A perfect song of a day. (Suddenly) thinking about the day I remembered an old song In the Good Old Summer Time… Momma would sometimes sing this to my brother and I as we made our beds in the morning, or if we were walking down to our Grandparents in the evening.
Sometimes, while playing outside, we could hear Momma burst into song, singing her way through the day.
For some reason this song is running though my thoughts today:
There’s a time in each year
That we always hold dear,
Good old summer time;
With the birds and the trees-es
,And sweet scented breezes,
Good old summer time,
When you day’s work is over
Then you are in clover,
And life is one beautiful rhyme
,No trouble annoying,
Each one is enjoying,
The good old summer time.
Of course there are more verses, but this says enough.
Today is a day they write songs about!
Your friend,
Linda
