Ten years ago, December 10, 2010 this writer submitted an article to the Brazil Times. Tonight I stepped back in time reflecting back to the good old days another time and another place called home.
I think you might like to visit a portion of it again. So, come back down the road with me and follow my heart.
Snow fell on the little blue house at the end of the road last night. The landscape became a beautiful sight to see. I love to watch those snowflakes stealthily fall, accumulate and cover my world in flawless pristine beauty.
From the rooftops to the fringe of snow cover in view, I am in awe. Oh, the wonderment of it all.
The cedar boughs in the tree row, outside my kitchen window are heavily laden with the unspoiled white stuff.
I dug out my old black totes and geared up to take a short trip down the path. The snow was deep however my legs are long and my feet know how to find their way out of a drift.
The only time I am a high stepper is when I goose step through snow. I wanted to check out the movement of the deer and rabbits and anything else with beating hearts and footprints recognized or not. My world was silent. The walk was well worth time spent. I hated to give it up.
On my return, I stopped by the henhouse to find out if my barred rocks left some cool gifts for me in their straw filled nests.
Six of 20 were in the gift giving mood. The others stood there at the closed trap door with uninterrupted feathers hanging from their empty pockets, with nothing to cackle about.
That late blooming , crazy rooster was doing a dirty dance.
The snow- covered chicken pen, had yet to receive its new canvas cover- so, no go for the shut-ins.
Besides, it was clear to see two curious dogs, large and small, had been moving about in front of the door of the house.
“Itsy Bitsy and Betsy Wetsy” placed a yellow ribbon around the old black walnut tree nearby.
Soon, the wind will become harsh and the temperature will take a nose dive. Icy conditions will stop me in my tracks and hinder my walks.
I went inside, happy about the eggs that this country girl gathered. I washed them place three in a carton and
three I cracked and separated in two small bowls. In no time, a rich homemade butterscotch pie filling filled the crust made earlier.
This cook prepared a pot of creamy potato soup ,a favorite of Paul Baby…
Those happy memories live on. Nowadays, living in the town of Brownsburg and another decade under my belt; I dare not venture out in heavy snow like fell and accumulated on the ground here the last few hours.
More is in the forecast.
So near to Christmas, I must mention more of that article that has come to my mind ever since, of greater importance and concern to me.
We Are Not Always Happy When We Smile
By James Whitcomb Riley
We are not always happy when we smile:
Though we wear a fair face and are gay,
And the world we deceive
May never believe
Yet, down in the deeps of the soul
We could laugh in a happier way--
Oft times, our faces aglow,
There is a ache and a moan
That we know alone,
As only the hopeless may, know.
The above stanza is a part of a three stanza poem written by the beloved poet from Indiana.
Mr. Riley patterned that small piece of his works from his own misfortune. James suffered from depression
most of his life. Yet, many of his friends and associates knew nothing of it during his lifetime.
I often wonder how James Whitcomb Riley handle the holidays. Could he function as a writer during those days or was his magic pen paralyzed along with his unhappy thoughts?
Consequently, I have been thinking about you: the shut - ins, the jobless, seniors, those folks whom morn the loss of precious loved ones, old neighbors and particularly ;those of you that have loved ones fighting for our country in far away places and peaceful places.
I sense your sadness. I know first hand the holidays can be bittersweet. We lost are baby boy close to the holidays. This writer is aware, a gift wrapped in pretty paper will not erase being alone, hopelessness and pain you are feeling.
If you need someone to talk to, I will gladly lend my ear and a piece of my heart. It may not help you, it can not hurt you, either. I am sincere.
Merry Christmas and best wishes to all from Paul, Tootie Mae and me!
I can be reached by phone at 317-286-7352 or drop me a line to 649 South Grant Street, Brownsburg, IN.,46112.