I keep looking out at my sunflowers and finally in September they opened.
Only God knows if they will actually have seeds or be frosted over.
The tomatoes are still green and every day I wonder if they should be picked.
My neighbor cut his sunflowers down but they had big heads. Mine are small.
Such long thin stocks, standing on their own, defying wind storms and
rain, bringing sun shine into every soul that looks at them.
The yard was full of birds this year, especially hummingbirds which came within
a few feet of you and hovered.
It was like Gods' angels coming from fairy land
taking you away into this mystical world we see so little of.
One sits and thinks that we tell children stories about these worlds we do not
ourselves believe in but they exist.
There were more places where they could be found
but man destroys their habitat with concrete cities every day
and we lose much by it.
One wonders how man can live and feel once his dreams and soul is taken away from him.?
One wonders how children can be raised without dreams hope and imagination?
One wonders how people can live without touching feathers on a chicken or fur on a bunny
or smell fields of cow manure without blocking noses.
We called it a breath of fresh air and took deep whiffs of farmers fields as we drove by them lol
In the fall we'd go into forests of rich black soil to collect mushrooms from rotten logs.
Our sense of smell was alive as we searched for more and more smells from nature.
Today we can't find soil like this anymore.
Even the so called black soil we buy in the garden outlets does not compare to what nature
herself creates. This soil was rich with worms and bugs. It was living soil.
The forests were living forests full of shit and flowers and wild succulent berries full of juicy flavor.
Skeletons of deer heads could be found by rocks and clear water puddles were safe to drink from.
Life was danger and it was great to be vibrant and alive living a life that was not stagnant ruled and poisoned.
You had to make do with what you had. You had to be creative because there was no Martha Stewart selling overpriced garbage at Michaels to make your cake look nice.
This was your job and because it was, it was what made you an individual and different and respected and loved and envied. People, neighbors, the owner of the corner store, were valued .
Achievements were valued more.You wore dresses and coats and shoes and felt like a million bucks,
because they were made by your Mom or Grandma or by elves and the shoe maker.
Self sacrifice was something one did to make others happy.
No one had to teach us to pay it forward.
Old people were respected.
We helped them and were in turn rewarded by a sweet kindness and stories our parents had no time to share with us.
Between canning and shredding and salting, basement shelves were stocked with goods no store could sell. Your mouth watered when Mom pulled out a can of tomato juice or pickled mushrooms or eggplant spread or apple sauce.
Life was good. Fulfilled. No one had trouble sleeping nights.
When I think about what children today lose out on, it makes me sad.
Man needs a living life, to keep him whole and his soul in tact and the mall is just not the answer.
You miss walking on city streets shopping and bargaining with small business people.
You miss the smells of bread shops and meat shops, salamis , smoked meat drifting through the night air on streets being covered by big flakes of white snow.
You miss store windows which spent hours every year creating a vision for young minds to behold of towns churches trains and animals. Little elves working away to make people happy sent a huge message. No one questioned the existence of Santa cause if you did not believe there would be no presents lol And who is Santa but someone who makes us better people and enriches us by the idea of sharing .
Jesus in his manger was a story beloved by one and all.
A gift of a babe, to teach man kind that we are all babes that need taking care of.
No man is immune to lifes' injustices and we have to be there for one another.
A living life .
A living sunflower.
How much of it is lost every year, by people who do not believe and teach others not to believe.