As I came into the office tonight, I noticed the following typed on a piece of paper hanging on the wall. How long it has been there I don't recall. It was typed by Celia some time ago I guess. Why did it take me this much time to read it and when was it pinned to the wall? Sure wished I paid more attention.
I sat down in the middle of the garden, where snakes could scarcely approach unseen, and leaned my back against a warm yellow pumpkin. There were some ground-cherry bushes growing along the furrows, full of fruit. I turned back the paper triangular sheaths that protected the berries and ate a few. All about me giant grasshoppers, twice as big as any I had ever seen, were doing acrobatic feats among the dried vines. The gophers scurried up and down the ploughed ground. There in the sheltered draw-bottom the wind did not blow very hard, but I could hear it singing its humming tune up on the level, and I could see the tall grasses wave. The earth was warm under me, and warm as I crumbled it through my fingers. Queer little red bugs came out and moved in slow squadrons around me. Their backs were polished vermilion, with black spots. I kept as still as I could. Nothing happened. I did not expect anything to happen. I was something that lay under the sun and felt it, like the pumpkins, and I did not want anything more. I was entirely happy. Perhaps we feel like that when we die and become part of something entire, whether it is sun and air, or goodness and knowledge. At any rate, that is happiness; to be dissolved into something complete and great. When it comes to one, it comes as naturally as sleep.
Sometimes our loved ones know they are close to leaving us physically, but do not want to worry or upset us. My friend Benny never shared he had cancer until 2 mos. before he passed. From your sister Ann
ReplyDeleteI think we should all go outside, lean up against a pumpkin or other, and just "bee", even if we need to do it with our N 95 masks to protect ourselves from the smoke.
ReplyDeleteThanks Mike (and Celia) for the positive, optimistic, courageous outlook. I've never read that novel but learned more about it this morning on Wikipedia. My Ántonia, published in 1918 by Willa Cather, is considered one of her best works. It tells the stories of an orphaned boy from Virginia, Jim Burden, and the elder daughter in a family of Bohemian immigrants, Ántonia Shimerda. They're each brought as children to be pioneers in Nebraska towards the end of the 19th century. Both the pioneers who first break the prairie sod for farming, as well as the harsh but fertile land itself, feature in this American novel. The first year in the very new place leaves strong impressions in both children, affecting them lifelong. Cather's first masterpiece, she was praised for bringing the American West to life and making it personally interesting.
ReplyDeleteI think we should all visit one of our local libraries and check it out for a good read this fall/winter.