Though our Breeze family of writers is well represented throughout this Breeze edition, space has been dedicated to annual public events only happening this month in the larger Lake Lure community.  The 11th Olympiad is August 14-16 (see pages 8 and 12).  This year’s Dirty Dancing Festival is August 15-16 (see page 8) and the Mystic Waters Ski and Skeet Pro-Am skiing event is August 22 (see page 8).  More events are listed on page 47 and other Breeze pages. Page through this print version or do so online with our digital edition – just a click per page at www.mountainbreezenews.com.

With some news from our own backyard, Janette Harvey, our Breeze associate for eight years, has announced her retirement from her full time position.  Janette has been the ‘face of the Breeze’ to so many in our larger community, representing the Breeze family with integrity, professionalism and distinction. We wish her all the best and congratulate her for a job well done.

Janette’s grandson, Henry Elmore, the Mountain Breeze delivery boy, has grown up! Henry began delivering The Mountain Breeze in 2008 when he was a third grader at Thomas Jefferson School.  He is now a junior at Chase High School and will be on the varsity football team.  Henry has always represented The Mountain Breeze wit a big smile, a firm handshake and lots of energy.  Many advertisers have watched him grow into the very special young man he has become.  Job well done, Henry!

Beyond the festivals and fun of the summer, there is also a sense of calm that water in this lake and river community can bring.  I hope you have some free time to sit back and enjoy its moving rhythm. May its music connect you to moments of reflection and appreciation for the natural beauty that surrounds us here. Never been to Lake Lure? See the 20-page Photo Essay of Lake Lure in the August 2015 edition of “Our State” magazine, Ourstate.com

Here is a poem by Alice T. Scheld that may help you arrive to that point of calm:

Lake Lure 2001

Where meadowlarks once sang,

the solitary cry of a loon

carves deep into the pre-dawn silence

that hovers over the lake.

Echoes skip across its glassy surface,

and, in the western sky, Sirius fades.

Rising mists, like dreams of ghosts

drowned by an ominous present,

honor a wisp of August moon.

 

How grandly great trees

guard this hush of hours

with calm dignity reflected

from yet another day –

a time not remembered, but felt –

when swells of birdsong flooded

the laughing river valley

that sleeps now beneath the stillness

of a watery destiny.