I am Barefoot This Summer

An ode to summer!

I am barefoot this summer

On the hot sandy beach

The black tar burns my feet

The rocks, they hurt deep

I am barefoot this summer

No schedule, no bedtime

No alarm clock that chimes

The day is all mine

I am barefoot this summer

All day in the pool

Florida to NH, staying cool

Embracing family, they are fuel

I am barefoot this summer

The calming beach house, I work

Writing, phone calls, proposals lurk

Self-employed, a summer perk

I am barefoot this summer

My children giggling, laughing, joking

Fighting, annoying and poking

Hugs, love, summer soaking

I am barefoot this summer

Baseball on the beach

Corn on the cob, lobster to eat

No shoes, tanned and painted feet

I am barefoot this summer

Collections of rocks and shells

Grace beach pails and my shelves

Remind me of living well

I am barefoot this summer

Commercials remind us about going back

New sneakers, clothes and a backpack

Not ready, so I slack

I am barefoot this summer

There the summer goes

Dreading the winter snows

Hoping it all slows

I am barefoot this summer

Grateful for humid and starry nights

All in one bed, snuggly, we click out the lights

Being present every moment with all my might

We were barefoot this summer!

Big Rocks

 Late one night after the beach house was quiet and the kids were in bed, I decided to look through the collection of books from the owner of the beach house we were renting from. She had great decorating taste – a nice flow to the house, very Zen and peaceful—so I was in search of the same type of feel in a book selection.

I came across a small picture book called “Beach Stones,” by writer Margaret Caruthers and photographer Josie Iselin. What looked like a little picture book of rocks, quickly became much more as I flipped through the pages. It was a collection of photos that were taken in different parts of the world of different types of rocks. The rocks had interesting shapes, lines, colors and all were different in their own way. (Yes, insert analogy to each one of us here!)

Walking along the shores of Rye, NH, my little boys had stopped to admire the rocks and stones --especially the big rocks --- several times throughout our stay. They had wanted to collect them, gather them up in a bucket and bring them back to the house to sort out and look at.  My little guy, recently turned three, was upset at the thought of taking the rocks away from their home and wanted to collect them, and then throw them back into the ocean (which we did several times during the week). My six-year old, a scientist in the making, wanted to bring the rocks back to the house and study them, talk about their differences and similarities and keep the ones he liked.

So, it was a strong coincidence that I stumbled upon this book in the late hours of the evening. I decided the next day we would definitely go on a scavenger hunt for “cool” rocks.

The next morning we walked the shore of the beach. The tide was just going out and was depositing lots of rocks, stones, shells, crab and lobster carcasses and all sorts of seaweed. The excursion was wonderful. With a fine eye, we looked for rocks that were flat, tiger colored, pearl colored, striped, and so many more.

We brought them back to the house and searched for the ones we liked, the ones that looked similar and the ones that were unique. We talked about how far some of the rocks had traveled to get to the shore; how they might have been a part of some much bigger rock at one time; how the rocks could be at least 400 years old or even 400 million years old.  We talked about how the pounding of the surf made some rocks smooth, and others rough with holes in them. (Yes, there is a strong analogy to living life that was not lost on me).  We took pictures of the ones we wanted to remember.

Then we put them all back in the bucket and left them at the shore for someone else to find and admire. We returned the rocks to the ocean so they could continue on their journey.