Patchwork in the plains


I stand in sunlight on a hill.

To my right August gold shimmers on the leaves of soybean plants in the fields of a small farmer.

An abandoned red barn rests up the road right in front of me.

To my left, on a higher hill there’s more gold in sight.

This time, mostly hidden on the frame of a super sized ‘executive home’ tucked back in a grove of trees.

Not impressed, I choose to walk the gravel road to the old barn and pull out my camera to take pictures.

I then stop, listening to the swallows sing as they square dance over the roof.

One adventurous soul breaking away to dance in and out the broken windows.

I decide to rest under an oak tree and listen to the full concert, closing my eyes for a while.

The flock soon takes me under their collective wing, escorting me back to a different time.

I’m a toe headed six year old again, picking green beans and tasting my first bite of sweet corn at Sunday supper.

But my memory feast is abruptly shortened by sounds of the speeding, shiny trucks belonging to a nearby corporate farm.

Choking on their dust, I slowly walk back down the county road.

Resigned, and accepting that these are the new patchwork squares of my rural landscape.

2 thoughts on “Patchwork in the plains

  1. Jackie, I have been spending a lot of time out on the back roads riding with my bulk milk drivers. I spend the entire ride absorbing the sights of the tilted barns and overgrown fields imagining how beautiful they must have been in their youth. I pay tribute with silent respect and appreciation for their history. Your post is a mirrored image of my own thoughts.

    • Such wonderful words in your comment, John. Paying tribute and appreciating them seem like the perfect approach. And you have some particularly beautiful ones out in Washington County. I smiled when I read your post knowing you have a similar appreciation.

      Sent from my iPad

      >

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.