Memories
Memories
I sit amidst the coffee spills and crumbled cookies that Monica with little care has scattered here and there across the carpet. My mind takes me back in time to the place I will always call home. I remember patiently waiting for the morning glories to open in all of their splendour. The soft scent of the morning glories entice the humming birds to come and drink. I often caught the little miracles tasting their fine sweet nectar.
Oh how I love the rain! The soft sounds of the warm spring rain filling the air with its magical odour. If I shut my eyes now I can feel the rain upon my skin and smell its freshness mingled with pine. I can hear it pattering on the ground giving its drink freely. The pine trees bestow their perfume to the gentle wind that brushes by my hair. I can take notice of the wind as it rustles in the branches and rocks each blade of grass in the fields. The wind comes into contact with each flower gently as if to invite their participation, “Awake and share the beauty of the day”! I eavesdrop on the birds, so diligently, sending messages to one another filling hushed places with their melodies. I contemplate on what they are disclosing to one another. I get taken back to a time sitting on the veranda. I can see it so clearly in my mind. I fix my eyes on the stars that fill the skies as I hear the creek rushing
down to meet the lake like a young lover her sweetheart. The big dipper is
pouring out its beauty and filling my cup. What a wonderful peace. What a breathtaking freedom. It surrounds me and wraps me like a blanket.
My mind drifts to the days when we drive the narrow dirt logging roads hidden in the mountains. Indian sagebrush and tiger lilies paint the rocks so vibrantly and daringly add their colours to the countless greens of the forest.
Often I would catch sight of a grouse as he fluttered from out of nowhere or a deer darting deeper into the forest to avoid my intrusion.
I think about the soundless days on the lake. Trolling slowly along shore where the mountains showed no signs of human intruders. Just the solitude of nature surrounds me. Here still a virgin. The lake is so quiet and clear, reflecting the upper world as if a large mirror were placed in the valley. Suddenly a trout or dolly varden breaks the silence but only for a moment. The ripples leave the tale of an existent life form beneath me.
My senses take me to the aroma of the coffee brewing on the campfire. The smell of the smoke lingers in my hair and clothing. Stars are laughing because they are just a little higher than the moon. The darkness is so serene.
Sweet, sweet memories of the maple trees in the fall. They splash their autumn colours naughtily allowing their crisp sere leaves to quiver downward to the cool ground. I think about the sound I made walking along
the country roads as I stepped on the carpet of leaves. Then I hear a small voice call out, “Can I have another cookie?” and I am back with Monica, the coffee spills and the cookie crumbs.
Written by Beverley ©
Music: "One Man's Dream"
