RAMBLING ON: What's Next?

Rambling On was born as an idea in the mid 1980's. Since then, it has grown and developed into its own little personality. It's been circulated in various places, though none quite so amazing as on the web. Rambling lived on the web site of a dear friend of mine for years. Her health made it impossible to continue the site and since then, it's been my goal to find another "outlet" for the rambling words of this Southern gal. With a prayer that this column will find another home, it seemed logical to toss it into the blogging world and see if anyone will read it. Your feedback means a lot. For one thing, I know you are there and have at least paid me a visit. Here, for your reading pleasure is a blast from the past.

RAMBLING ON: Night Song
Janice's note: This 'chapter' I've titled Night Song was the first to be written after a long dry spell, and it came to me at 2:00 in the a.m. The column had enjoyed a nice run in a local paper, but when the powers-that-be decided to can it, I thought it was gone for good. But, obviously, it wasn't. The column simmered, so to speak, on a back burner and then Voila! The words came alive again and the Lord let me know, HE had a purpose and a plan. Enjoy...jk

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Moonlight plays across the surface of the pond much like a silent instrument, its beauty - purely visual. The wind strokes the water with the same caress as a mother with a newborn infant. The muted color of the amber liquid throws back a garbled reflection of a full moon. Shadows hug the bank as only a shadow can in the twilight of a Summer night. Shadows created this night, by a glowing round disc.

Night. All is calm and the serenity of this place permeates my being. When so many search for peace and rest, I have only to sit on the bank and drink in this tonic of tranquility.

Tree frogs join in a chorus with the Spring Peepers. A melodious song so in harmony with the breeze in the trees. What more could I ask for? Such therapy as can only be found here.

Who needs a psychiatrist's couch when I have a clump of cool green grass? Some of the best therapists in the world are of the K-9 variety. This outdoor office is very affordable and even when my therapist jumps a rabbit, I really can't complain. The only "over head" are the trees over head!

A cross tie floats on the surface and looks very much like an alligator. Wouldn't that be an adventure? Jonah gets a whale and this would-be writer gets a gator? My imagination has run amuck.

A train whistle in the distance reminds me that civilization isn't far away. The hum of traffic on the interstate is muted, and seems to lend its own musical notes to the evening.

Have you ever listened to a train whistle and wondered where it was going and where it had been? What musical sounds does the engineer hear as the massive machine clamors ever onward over those glistening rails? Does he hear the song of the night? Maybe he can feel it in the clackety clack of the wheels turning and moving him closer to his destination.

The song of the night plays every night, every where for everyone. Whether you live in a busy town with some vocal neighbors or a quiet sub-division with a not-so-quiet dog living next door. In town or in the country, the song plays on. When was the last time you heard it?

Take a moment tonight to turn off the TV and step outside and listen. You may be surprised. :)

The smell of honeysuckle clings to the night and you can feel the moisture of a fog just rolling in as it purrs against your cheek. The song is playing tonight. Nature's lullaby. Rhapsody in hue ~ hues of gray and silver. A Summer sonnet.

When was the last time you heard it? Take the time. Make the time. It's cheaper than the couch and I love the "over head"!

Until next time ~~~I'll be rambling on. Janice