Little boys of summer....

"Marilla, do you think amethysts are made from the souls of good violets?"

I sat on a hill, my bare feet in a patch of violets and new grass.
It was the first time this season to feel the grass between my toes....to revel in the beauty of the tiny violets sprinkled by last year's breezes. My favourite quote from Anne of Green Gables came to mind.

The sun was quickly losing it's heat as it competed with the brisk spring wind. Summer is not fully here yet. It's taking it's time this year to warm up unlike the last couple of years.

But that's alright.

Everything is green again and the little boys are back playing the game of summer.

50 boys have taken the field, excited and thrilled to be back in play....stretching, running, and learning to throw straight. Familiar sounds of the game.......the ping of the bats, and the thunk of the ball landing into the gloves are interspersed with the rabble of the players. The first practise of the year is always the sweetest because it is the one dreamed about and talked about on those snowy January days.

I was not alone on the hill looking down at the diamond Parents mingled casually as they sipped from their Tim Horton's cups. Some had managed to get home and change into jeans and sweatshirts, while others were dressed in their suits and dresses having rushed to the field from work. Our days were different in many ways, but one thing is certain. We were all juggling, working, living, coping, managing, planning, meeting, compromising, interacting, winning, losing.....grinding through a busy day.

But, for 2 hours our busy worlds stopped.......at the ball field. And it felt good.

The day was over and an evening at the ball park put life into perspective. It never fails, I am always struck by the continuity and comfort I find there as I watch my son take his turn practising his swing. Just like I did. Just like his sister does. Just like his aunts still do. Just like my Dad did. We will be seeing them all this weekend, and more than likely baseball will be a major part of our conversations.

Roger Angell, a columnist for the New Yorker and lover of the game writes, "Since baseball is measured only in outs, all you have to do is succeed utterly. Keep hitting, keep the rally alive and you have defeated time. You remain forever young."

ON a day when family members are far away planning the celebration of a life well lived, it is good to spend time with my feet in the grass watching life unfold amongst the flurry of little boys playing a game that potentially can continue into eternity.

Like good violets who become amethysts.
forever young

ps.....Dad, if you're reading this.......Roger Clemens is starting against the Jays on Monday........Max wanted me to point this out to you and to let you know he's quite aware that Clemens will most likely make it into the hall of fame and how thrilling it would be to see the Rocket pitch live. see you Saturday. We will be bringing our gloves just in case anyone wants to throw the ball around in the backyard.