By G. E. Shuman
So, while I was in the shower this
morning, (Yes, this is how I’m starting this column,) a song came to mind. It’s
a song that you have heard a million times; one that has, since that shower,
been ceaselessly swirling around in my mind.
You already guessed what that song is,
(If not, check the title above.) and now it is probably ceaselessly swirling
around in your mind, too. Sorry. There is just nothing like spending a day
thinking of good old Kermit the frog singing away at the top of his little
froggy lungs. Again, sorry.
As I write this, the summer sun is struggling
to shine outside. The spring and summer of 2021 have been the rainiest, darkest,
coolest that I can remember. I know that some years, what are supposed to be
the warmer seasons here in the North come along and feel more like fall. This
year is one of those years.
Still, looking on the bright side, (If
not of the sun, at least of the situation,) everywhere I have been here in
northern New England this summer is simply bursting with green plant life. The
tree leaves are huge and of a thousand different greens; the corn is as high as
an elephant’s eye. (I heard that someplace before.) Lawns are lush, flower and veggie gardens are
gorgeous, and the hills are alive! (I heard that someplace before, too.)
If there is a point to what you have
just read, and I think there is, it is that into each life a little rain must
fall. (Okay, so next time I’ll use more of my own words.) If, when you look out
the window tomorrow morning, it is a dark and rainy day, remember that it’s
worth it. It’s not easy being green.
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