A retreat

Amidst chaos and other things, sometimes my mind drifts away as a way to cope.
There is a memory of an imagined time and place in my mind, one that has been with me for many years. I may have formed it while reading something, but nonetheless it has become a source of peace and beauty inside, when it is conjured from the recesses of my mind.

It is 70-80 years ago, on a country farm, in late summer. There’s something bittersweet about late summer, a last call for a glass of iced lemonade, the ritualistic sounds of the cicada, reminding me of the same summer song heard yearly.
A gentle breeze, a settling sun, a pink sky, the heat of August is over – beset by the crispness of the looming autumn to come. A last time to explore, to camp, to walk through a shallow creek barefoot maybe. There’s a large Oak Tree outside the back door’s white painted, wood porch – which faces the setting sun. A swing dangles gently in the breeze. A lush lawn of green grass ends just over a slight roll of a hill the home rests on. That is the beginning of an endless field, a field without fences. The calmness, the serenity, the memories of the summer as well as the prior summer are summoned.

A time without commercializations, a time without TV’s or a myriad of fads, a time with no care, a time of inner peace, a time to be lazy and notably, a time of reflection.

“There was a time when meadow, grove, and stream,
The earth, and every common sight,
To me did seem
Apparelled in celestial light,
The glory and the freshness of a dream. ”
-Walt Whitman

Maybe that imagined place can be yours now as well, a place to ponder and to enjoy within your imagination, to visit when times are harsh and unforgiving. I hope I packaged this gift nicely for you to take to heart, to understand, to help heal, to fight.

Thanks for that, - sets up the opposite to contrast- grey smoke chimney small town, hay burning the splendor of golden sunshine on tall wheat, an eternal fly buzz, past now so soon, snow coming the bell tolls with slow abandon.