To those of you who weren’t in my state today, all I can say is “I’m so sorry!” We’ve had the most exquisite spring day you can imagine; seventy degrees, a soft breeze blowing, not a cloud in the sky.
O had a slow work day so we took the opportunity to get out and commune with nature for a while. My in-laws own about 60 acres of land behind our home, complete with fields, ponds, streams, beautiful woods and a Civil War era road. On the far side, tucked in and among the trees is an old home site, or as we Southerners like to say, a home place. The house has been gone for fifty years or more. All that remains is a pile of bricks where the chimney fell long ago.
I’ve always had such a fascination with the past. I hold an antique in my hands and wonder who made it or owned it. I drive past old houses and try to imagine who might have lived there, whom they loved, how they lived, and why they left. So a trip back to the old home place was a wonderful way to share this beautiful day with my husband.
It was an afternoon I’ll never forget. Nothing remarkable happened. We held hands and walked along the old road bed, stopped for a while to listen to the stream bubbling along, and gathered up some of the old bricks for me to line a flower bed with. But there was just perfect happiness; no troubles, no cares, no concerns.
One of my favorite things about this time of year is driving through the country and seeing clumps of daffodils planted hundreds of years ago where homes once stood, still popping out of the soil to welcome each spring. So I was thrilled to walk through the trees and see a carpet of yellow in what would have been the old home’s front yard. I thought of the woman who probably planted just a few bulbs beside her little house in the woods so long ago. Could she ever have imagined what those few little flowers would become? Would she have believed that over a century later, though she and her home were gone, she would still make someone so happy with the beauty she left behind?
I hope I find a way to leave that kind of beauty behind when I'm gone. What a wonderful gift to give, and to receive.
O had a slow work day so we took the opportunity to get out and commune with nature for a while. My in-laws own about 60 acres of land behind our home, complete with fields, ponds, streams, beautiful woods and a Civil War era road. On the far side, tucked in and among the trees is an old home site, or as we Southerners like to say, a home place. The house has been gone for fifty years or more. All that remains is a pile of bricks where the chimney fell long ago.
I’ve always had such a fascination with the past. I hold an antique in my hands and wonder who made it or owned it. I drive past old houses and try to imagine who might have lived there, whom they loved, how they lived, and why they left. So a trip back to the old home place was a wonderful way to share this beautiful day with my husband.
It was an afternoon I’ll never forget. Nothing remarkable happened. We held hands and walked along the old road bed, stopped for a while to listen to the stream bubbling along, and gathered up some of the old bricks for me to line a flower bed with. But there was just perfect happiness; no troubles, no cares, no concerns.
One of my favorite things about this time of year is driving through the country and seeing clumps of daffodils planted hundreds of years ago where homes once stood, still popping out of the soil to welcome each spring. So I was thrilled to walk through the trees and see a carpet of yellow in what would have been the old home’s front yard. I thought of the woman who probably planted just a few bulbs beside her little house in the woods so long ago. Could she ever have imagined what those few little flowers would become? Would she have believed that over a century later, though she and her home were gone, she would still make someone so happy with the beauty she left behind?
I hope I find a way to leave that kind of beauty behind when I'm gone. What a wonderful gift to give, and to receive.
