Land of Our Own

Row after row, 

turning, plowing, and planting

growing, cutting and harvesting

opening the land

of milk and honey

We tire of battling

the elements dressed

in thin simple clothes

but we store our tears

until darkness falls

The dinner bell rings

calling us home

in level tones

grateful for freedom 

we speak Latin no more

Without intending this became a double prompt for Sunday's Whirligig and Flash 55 Plus at Imaginary Garden With Real Toads.  I used the words with the picture for inspiration while finishing with 55 words exactly.  I forgot the touch of Zen but some reach that moment working with the land.

My Many Hats...

There are many hats we wear in a life time, some all the time, some only a few times but the importance of that hat is not lessened.  I had a postal hat but I've laid that aside as I have many hats in my past. My current hats include but limited to those below.

At The Shop hat

Sweating boat-loads hat

My Wife hat

My construction/repair hat

My explorer hat

My cattle feeding hat

My cattle working hat

My rock hunting hat

and a hat I don't wear anymore.

We wear our hats with pride or in hiding due to our choices but we all have hats.  Wear them well.  Be proud of the hat you wear...change 'em around just for fun.  Maybe wear someone else's hat for awhile and look at the world differently but love the hat you wear.

Home...

I think I've lived here before.  The valley is too familiar.  If I listen I can hear the ages over lapping.  I hear the laughter of children and smell the smoke of campfires.

History's voice comes from the land.  The old wagon road, the chips of flint and chert, the lay of the valley tell me what once was.

I read the dirt and see thousands of years before me in layers.  The dirt speaks as plainly as if it were written. I see great floods, fire and then years and years of soil building.  I seek the section when the Native Americans lived here.  I touch it and think I understand.

Springs flow and make this valley rich with game.  It was and is a perfect place to live.  I am in awe at the natural fortification of this beautiful life-filled valley.

As the day turns out the light the fog rises.  The frogs sing for their mates.  Life continues here with or without me.

In awe and wonder I know I have been here before...

This place is part of me.   This place at the end of a dead end road in the middle of nowhere is home.

I hear the drums beat and voices rise in song.