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Stream Along by Dreamsharer
A Childs Springtime Fantasy
When I was a child, my parents always lived in the country.
The house we lived in was a half mile from the main road,
with a long driveway that was narrow and bumpy.
Large oak trees grew on the left side of the drive with grape vines
hanging down, creating an appearance of an uninviting jungle.
The dark shadows from the trees and vines would fall across the drive,
giving the illusion of entering a magical lane leading to a haunted forest
where mystical creatures might abide, waiting only for me to enter their
dwelling, and possibly capture me.
I became Tarzan, king of the jungle.
On the right side of the drive was another world, one of light and splendor.
The brilliant rays of sun would filter through the darkness of the trees
and light up a small pond.
In the spring the pond came to life with wildflowers that would explode into
colors of bluish lavender, and bright orange yellows of the wild iris
and cowslips.
These colors when inter-mixed with the long, slender, dark green leaves
of the cattails gave the entire setting the look of a well tended water garden,
sparkling in the luminous sunshine.
I became a wood nypmh, dancing among the flowers.
I would be so glad to see the warm weather come in the springtime,
after the long cold dark of the winter, that I would go out into
the field where the new grass grew tall and clover gave off the aroma
of clean sweetness.
I would find a soft spot and make myself a nest where the tall grass
would shelter me from the softly blowing breeze which still had the
lingering chill of the winter.
I would lay there on my nice soft, sweet smelling nest and enjoy
the warm sun shining on my face.
I could look up at the large fluffy clouds and imagine all sorts of
wonderful creatures, ever-changing and reforming with each whisper of wind.
Watching the clouds float by would almost hypnotize me, and I would
sometimes fall asleep while lying in my small, warm, protected place
of wonder and safety.
I became an embryo, cuddled inside my mother's womb.
By Panthea
© Copyright 1999
Our Move To The Country
In 1989 my husband and I moved from Phoenix, a crowded city where
we would go to sleep and wake every morning to the persistent hum of traffic.
This steady hum was interrupted only by the crash of an automobile
accident followed closely by the mournful howling of the police and
ambulance rushing to the rescue. You would hope to yourself that no one was
been seriously hurt.
In a large bustling metropolis like Phoenix, going to the supermarket
was an adventure. The art of making a left-hand turn to get to the
parking lot from the main road could be a study of exact timing, attempting
to fit into a small opening in traffic without connecting with others vying
for the same small space.
Now we live in the country. We traded the hubbub of the throngs for
the peaceful solitude. We now wake in the morning to our rooster crowing
in the daylight, although I believe his clock could use some adjusting.
As I hear his welcome to the sun, I open my eyes to see no hint of rays
filtering through my window.
The only vying I see these days are among
the humming birds, darting about my aloe vera blossoms, poking their long
slender beaks deep into the flower for the sweet nectar.
When we go to sleep at night, the only mournful howling we hear is that
of the coyotes coming down from the mountain to drink from the irrigation
ditches scattered about the citrus groves. Our supermarket is a trading
post where we shop for small necessities and we also get our mail
(no mail carriers out here).
Yes, I would take country living over city life even with some of the
inconvenience of long distant errands.
~
Panthea
© Copyright 1999
The Rooster
We had a rooster that would attack us everytime we went into
the pen to collect eggs. I had finally decided I had enough
of this violent behavior, and would try to discourage him.
I prepared myself for the battle by putting on boots, legwarmers,
and heavy jeans. I approached the pen with caution, opened the
gate, stepped inside shutting the gate behind me.
There he stood like a bull in the fighting ring, eyes glaring at me.
He shook his feathers, stood up tall and crowed his defiance. There
we were the rooster and I, staring at each other like mortal combatants.
He came at me with his talons pointed out like knives. I put my booted
foot on his chest and pushed him back. He fell back, and with a shake
and a crow, was at me again. This went on for about five minutes. I
finally gave up and decided he was just too stubborn. I turned to go
out the gate and that is when he got me. I made it out the gate with
no more injuries other then a large bruise on the back of my leg. As
I walked away, I could hear him crowing, declaring his dominance over
the chicken coop once more.
~
Panthea
© Copyright 1999
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