For Dad

 

I heard this song today as I drove to work.  I had been driving along, looking at the now-barren fields, the beauty of the blue sky, and the wispy clouds overhead.  As always, I felt calmed and grounded by this land that I love.  It was during moments like this morning, that I would often pick up my phone to call my dad, my connection to all that has come before me and loved this land in very much the same way.  As tears filled my eyes at the painful reminder that I can no longer reach out and hear my dad’s voice, I remembered that his spirit is always near me.  And then this song played on my iPod.

Pelicans and Pumpkins

My laptop has crashed on me, and the only computer available to me at this time is the family computer.  I could use my iPad, but I can’t quite get the flow of typing anything of any length on a virtual keyboard.  Call me old-school. So for the time being, I am relegated to using the computer in the room off the kitchen.  There are a lot of crumbs in the keyboard, and I’ve had several pop-ups advertising Sponge Bob related websites.  Lola is standing in the doorway watching me type and asking repeatedly what I’m doing.  T is in the kitchen a few steps away talking with Shannon’s dad.  They are looking through my great-grandpa’s coin collection, and discussing them LOUDLY.  The TV in the nearby living room is blasting, and Pepper the Wondercat is sitting my lap.  This low-level of chaos is making it difficult to organize my thoughts, but I wanted to write for a few moments.

No Shades of Gray

When I was a young(er) woman, I often used my great-grandparents as my mental guides.

Hazel and Clifford were a wonderful, happy part of my childhood.  They lived on the family farm where Grandpa’s own Great-Grandparent’s had lived.  To me, it seemed like they had been there forever, almost like characters out of a fairytale.  Great-Grandma was a tiny, little woman who always wore a dress, old-fashioned lace-up boots, and a smile.  She taught me how to gather eggs.  I can see her bending down before me, the bun in her hair streaked with gray.  She may have been old, but her eyes were youthful and sparkled with merriment.