has always been a custom but never called that except in the poignant scene in an old movie "Beyond Thunderdome". This scene shows Mad Max being saved by a group of children, survivors of a plane crash living in a desert oasis. The memories were kept by having a nightly "tell" of what they 'membered from their past and what was to come in the future. The adults left to get help and never returned. Savannah said they must 'member and began the tradition of "tells" each night so no one would forget how they came to be.
This scene stuck with me through the years, in my opinion, the only really memorable part of this movie. I saw the similarities to the tales of elders of all nationalities and tribes who pass down stories and keep them alive by "tells" to the children.
Myths, legends and truths are passed down this way so we can 'member. The past is important to help us with our future. We must continue our "tells" to assure our children and their children know from whence they came...and in those grains of truth may they find what they need to secure a future in this ever changing world.
With only a promise of rain the ground dries quickly in the summer temperatures we have now. I hear thunder but only see drops of rain. I know this is normal but the unusually cool temperatures have spoiled me.
Signs of fall are already showing with the lack of rain. The ponds no longer run over and the creek moves slowly.
Leaving my shoes behind...why doesn't that surprise you? I followed the dogs as they stirred up the creek. I like to be barefooted. I may sound crazy but it seems like I can feel the Earth's pulse through the soles of my feet.
I go where I always go in my mind when I view this valley. I rewind at least two hundred years and maybe two thousand plus. I view the gift of the valley with ancient eyes.
My feet are refreshed as my body seems more balanced.
I like to see the valley like it once was and is now. Elderberries grow along the creek teeming with crawdads, either would be an easy meal if I wanted. I imagine natives gathering food and hear the laughter of children in the creek of summer.
The Ironweed grows tall and is almost ready to harvest. The natives used this plant as a pain killer. I admire the beauty and wish I knew the purpose of all the plants. I'm positive the Creator made them all useful.
My feet tell me I am grounded
as I dig my toes deep into the sand.
I empty my pockets and leave chips I've found from past residents. I put on my shoes but do not lose my connection with the land. May I leave it better than I found it. May the land always nourish and protect us. I turn toward home and glance at the sky holding sounds of distant thunder. I begin to pray for rain.
I am not a writer but I've love answering the challenge of prompts. Maybe because they have structure and guidelines like a school assignment. I did love the structure of a class room.
At Poets United: I Wish I'd Written This I had an epiphany after reading a Charles Bukowski poem. I realized sometimes I force my writing, rarely with good results but mostly I would write an uninspired jumble of words that sometimes made sense and sometimes rhymed. Many were pieces I had thrown together for the guidelines and not something I felt from the heart. People left kind comments and encouraged me to continue to write by complimenting my deep messages there merely by accident.
I may simply be an example of an Insecure Writer but I don't think so. Unless my writing is like Bukowski said "...when it is truly time, and if you have been chosen, it will do it by itself and it will keep on doing it until you die or it dies in you." I have had those moments but not every time I write.
Those who know me also know how close I came to losing this irritating, funny, lovable man. I am thankful for not losing him most days. The tractor has been a toy and a life saver since Hubby's abilities are limited.
We still manage to laugh even in the worst of times. Forty-two years of living hell joyous partnership have been the death of me my reward and my pleasure.
I hope I die first because I wouldn't know how to drive the tractor live without you.
Happy Birthday, honey, hope there's a hundred more!
They were beauties and they served us well. Sold them all, every one. It is bittersweet. Hubby's dream of raising cattle was born years ago. He lived his dream and like my horses, that dream ends, too.
Sometimes you just have to do what you have to do.
Shall I change my blog name since we officially are no longer "farming"?
The land will feed the wildlife. We will continue to care for the land but hopefully at a more leisurely pace.
I imagine we will celebrate come winter but now it's bittersweet.