Roses Love Sunshine …


Down In The Valley

This is a popular Appalachian Mountain courting song that descended from a British air.

In 1962 it was adapted by Bert Berns and Solomon Burke and recorded by Solomon Burke.


Down in the valley, valley so low
Hang your head over, hear the wind blow
Hear the wind blow, dear, hear the wind blow
Hang your head over, hear the wind blow.


Roses love sunshine, violets love dew
Angels in heaven know I love you
Know I love you, dear, know I love you
Angels in heaven, know I love you.


Writing this letter, containing three lines
Answer my question, “Will you be mine?”
“Will you be mine, dear, will you be mine?”
Answer my question, “Will you be mine?”


Down in the valley, valley so low
Hang your head over, hear the wind blow
Hear the wind blow, dear, hear the wind blow
Hang your head over, hear the wind blow.


Isn’t it funny what you remember? Whenever I’m in my garden and smell the perfume of roses, or admire my wild violets, I start singing this song; I honestly don’t know if I sing it in my head or out loud; I just know I am singing about roses, sunshine, violets, and dew.

This song is a bit confusing. Are the couple together looking down over a mountain top into the valley, hearing the wind blow? Or is just one lover way down, down in the valley of doubt about his lover’s affections. I’m not sure; don’t know if it matters; but surely it mattered to the author.

What is it about putting words together with or without accompaniment? Whether you’re a writer, a reader, a singer, or an appreciator, words and music combine everyday sentiments with ethereal melodies light and delicate-otherworldly.

I like to think I live an otherworldly life; why I think I’m special or due such an honor I don’t know; but I do. Maybe lots of people feel this way. Consider the snowflake, uniquely different from all other snowflakes. God, Your attention to detail as a Creator is mind-boggling! Surely each and every person, every soul, is as unique as one snowflake from another.

Did you know I can fly? In my dreams I fly; I curve my arms out on either side, palms facing me; from there I just rise upwards; doing loop-de-loops and zooming up and down. It is such fun! I haven’t flown lately; I hope to fly again soon. It is such a wonderful feeling! No, I am not batty in the head; no herbal influence; I just fly! Maybe someday I won’t have to be dreaming to fly!

There is a radio in my head; built-in channels jump from one song to the next totally involuntary. Sometimes I hum along, or keep time with my fingers; the music selections vary; on occasion the melody is totally unfamiliar to me; I guess that’s from my own musical repertoire!

My hearing is super-sonic; I’d have made a good bloodhound, as my sense of smell is amazing! These two senses may be over-compensating for my eyes-my weakest link. In the fifth grade my best friend had glasses. Mother thought I wanted some like hers. What Mother hadn’t noticed was how close I sat to the television, or how I’d pull the music stand, part of our piano that moves up close and far away, anyway, I’d pull it up as close to me as I could get it; Mother would angrily push it back. She didn’t get it; neither did my fifth grade math teacher who had to have seen me squinting and pulling the side of my eye trying to focus on the chalk board. It is amazing I had such good grades when … yes … I couldn’t see. Mother took me to an eye doctor, took him aside and told him she thought I just wanted glasses, she asked was there any way to check my eyes without me fudging on the results. He assured her he could. As I sat in the chair he asked me to read the chart on the wall. It was a dark room and there was a light in front of me on the wall; but that’s all I saw-a bright light. “Get up, honey, and walk forward until you can see the letters.” I did. Halfway to the wall I told him I saw a big E, but that’s all I could see. That was one time in Mother’s life she was totally wrong about me; and she said she was truly ashamed she hadn’t picked up on that herself. So … I got glasses … thick coke bottle glasses … they were hideous! But I didn’t care; I slept with them in their case every night under my pillow; I could see; I could see; I could see!

Contacts replaced glasses in high school and in 1997 I had lasik eye surgery; when this surgery was new, Emory in Atlanta was and is the place to go for eye problems. A miracle occurred that August thirteenth. The surgery was done, eyes wide open, conscious and awake the whole time, I remember when he cut my cornea and said as he flipped the slice to the side that everything would go dark. It did. My one and only moment of blindness, I do hope and pray. Age has brought with it my need for dime-store readers, but that’s fine, I love looking over the top of the half glass lenses. Makes me feel, I don’t know, adult, smart, capable, efficient. I love getting the ones that are colored, or have stripes, or leopard spots. They’re fun, functional, and funky all at the same time.

What does all this have to do with roses or sunshine or violets or dew? Sometimes I spend my time griping or complaining about this or that-what a waste! Paying attention to the roses that bloom and perfume, the sun that shines on us all, warming us, lighting our way along the paths lined with violets, dainty yet sturdy, wildly invasive, yet welcomed enthusiastically in my garden, and all blessed with the morning dew that glistens from every leaf and blade, a refreshing start to any day!

Thank You, Dear Lord, for all the many traits, quirks, specialities, peculiarities, that make me who I am. I am grateful for the blessings, love, support, help, and assistance from others who followed the paths you laid out for them; I pray my paths assist, bless, love, support, and help others, if even in a very small way.  Amen



Make Me an Instrument of Your Peace

Saint Francis Prayer

Lord, make me an instrument of thy peace.
Where there is hatred, let me sow love;
Where there is injury, pardon;
Where there is doubt, faith;
Where there is despair, hope;
Where there is darkness, light;
Where there is sadness, joy.

O Divine Master,
Grant that I may not so much seek
To be consoled as to console;
To be understood, as to understand;
To be loved, as to love.

For it is in giving that we receive;
It is in pardoning, that we are pardoned;
It is in dying that we are born to eternal life.



Oh Dear Lord,

to be an instrument such as this …

would be an honor;

to perform this well …

my highest goal.




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