Sunday, April 17, 2005

Prairie

I walk home at five o’clock. September trees are turning yellow, the harvested fields are covered with the stiffness of wheat stubble, yet the weeds along the roadside are still green. Small yellow daisies bloom and the white berries are on the dogwood bushes. One or two hazelnut bushes still hold the tiny packaged nuts, the raspberries are gone, a few remaining chokecherries hang over the fence. The air smells of ripeness, dust from the distant thresher drifts about. A pickup laden with ripe wheat passes me, someone unfamiliar waves. I brush into the dried grasses, stop to find a bright red stone, something to take to school tomorrow, a round pebble to roll between my fingers .

2 Comments:

At 9:28 AM, Blogger Vi Jones said...

It's spring here but thinking about September trees brings back the color I relished when I was living in Oregon. Winnie knows. The desert, while it has its own unique beauty lacks sometimes the color that lights up the soul.
Thank you for the memory.
Vi

 
At 6:29 PM, Blogger Trendle Ellwood said...

Fran I responded to this once but I come back and see that it is not here. Perhaps you will not even read back this far now. But I had to try and tell you how I cherished this, it was so special to me and I am always so amazed that your darlings are really on the opposite side of this big ball of earth. Isn't it truly a wild thought. And I felt like I was right there taking a walk with you Fran. I tried to make chokecherry jelly last year and it was awfull.
I love you Fran and I hope you see this. Tren

 

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