Just In From The Garden

Twilight

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A short poem "At Twilight" - - - -

Coolness comes at the wrong end of the day.

Why should we crave sleep in the morning when it is cool, and only have it when it is dark?

I'm in from the garden, tired but not yet content.

A late, light supper will suffice; not the hearty meal of my ancestors who worked regardless of the heat and sun's rays we are now taught to fear.

I miss the sitting around with the after dinner telling of and listening to stories from family members' memories, the oral histories of their age.

The stories would eventually slow, and by some unspoken agreement back then, we headed to our separate beds, satisfied that another day was over.

I'm not sure I'm that satisfied any more; tired yes, somewhat content, but satisfied?

I have the sure knowledge that not just "the children in far off China and India" are too often going to their beds hungry, or sick, or fearful, or "all of the above," but that children here at home often do, too.

I don't need the TV or radio with its "buy this and be happy" interludes to tell me the world is no better, maybe worse, than when stories and memories used to be shared, back before instant notifications about some celebrities latest cover photo, low fashion, and most recent divorce were paraded disguised as modern living..

There was something of the "olden days" still lingering in the garden I just left, as the same twilight of those days struck the chime of my own circadian rhythm.

Fragrances it must have been which stirred my thoughts out there. The sunset and twilight did the rest.

American families seem smaller these days. The kitchen stoves are electric or gas. Even fireplaces come in their own "buy and be happy" phoneiness, at best stirring memories of real fireplaces that snapped, crackled, and popped down to glowing embers instead of the canned seven seconds rotations of artifical flames.

Did we lose "real life" somewhere along the path called "progress"?

Or is it still lingering to be harvested in gardens at twilight?

__________

Copyright 2014 Demas W. Jasper All rights reserved.

An anytime prayer....

Teach me to feel another's woe,

To hide the fault I see:

That mercy I to others show,

That mercy show to me.

(Alexander Pope 1688-1744)

A link to those "good old days": (See below. V)

http://perspycacious.hubpages.com/hub/Life-On-The-Farm-In-The-Good-Old-Days

(just click or cut and paste)

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Comments 7 comments

MizBejabbers profile image

MizBejabbers 2 years ago

That was awesome! I believe that it takes someone who has lived before “progress” to really appreciate what you are saying. My father, who grew up on a farm without indoor plumbing or electricity, was all for progress. We got our first bathroom when I was nine, he was 45, so you can see why “the greatest generation” pushed progress. He was all for the land and still worked two bountiful gardens even after we moved to town.

I think the hippies had something special with their “back-to-the-land” movement in mid-20th century. Too bad they were scoffed at, and the movement didn’t take hold. It had to take fears of climate change and more for the wakeup call that we are now feeling. Voted up and awesome.


Perspycacious profile image

Perspycacious 2 years ago from Today's America and The World Beyond Author

Yes, the "family farms" are either much larger, or mostly a thing of the past. There was a self-reliance in those days which we may have lost in the rush to the "welfare cities." In some ways it is unfortunate that, until now, we have been "so safe" that most Americans are now "so soft." We have only had a first taste of terror. More is sure to come. It is easier to attack than to defend. The future depends on who we are today.


always exploring profile image

always exploring 2 years ago from Southern Illinois

I loved reading your thoughts of olden times. You mentioned missing the family time, i do too. We used to sit out on the porch at night and neighbors would gather, we children would play kick the can and hide and go seek, never a thought of danger lurking in the shadows, now we lock our doors in fear. Aha the good ole days...


Perspycacious profile image

Perspycacious 2 years ago from Today's America and The World Beyond Author

always exploring - Sadly most of this generation may never know what that was like (though we can try to tell them.) Families are increasingly threatened by a looser and looser definition of what that should mean....an earlier topic. There are many reasons why we refer to those days as "good."


Ericdierker profile image

Ericdierker 2 years ago from Spring Valley, CA. U.S.A.

Around here we do not let them die. Different in some ways like crackling fires are a little hot in the desert. But evenings gathered round are still traditional.

Our family farm is tiny but it still yields.

Great hub and great stuff.


aviannovice profile image

aviannovice 2 years ago from Stillwater, OK

I grew up in the Maine woods with the real wood stove, the hard labor of shoveling snow and tending a large garden. Those were the hardest, yet the best days of my life. As an adult, I was able to return to that, and read by candlelight, while I typed my stories on a 1920's high carriage underwood. I would not have traded those experiences for anything, as that has given me the grandest memories that I could ever conjure up.


Perspycacious profile image

Perspycacious 2 years ago from Today's America and The World Beyond Author

aviannovice - Those were some of my best days, too. The cabin had a wood stove, the cottage had a kerosene stove (converted from a wood stove) and the home had no central heat until 1949, having made do with five fireplaces for the preceding 109 years. One of those five was a "cooking fireplace" with warmer oven, etc. You and I could probably still survive, if and when the country goes to an all-out war again. I'm not so sure about a lot of other folks, at least not until they can get used to doing without and making do.

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