Morning Thoughts on Family and Generations Past

Yesterday on the way to work I spied an elderly man showing his yard to a younger man. He could have been his son or just a nice neighbor. I don't know, but it stirred something in me. I recalled all the times we had gone to visit my grampa (Mom's dad) on the farm when I was a kid. He would proudly take us around the land showing us any changes and discussing the following year with my mom. I was too young to really understand what they were saying, and my grampa's generation didn't include children in adult conversation. I do remember, however, when he grew older and had to sell the farm . We would still go out to visit at the new house, and he would still bring my mom around his sizable garden and show here how the "crops" were doing. There was still a pride in him derived from working the land. Now, my mom does the same thing. When I go home on visits, she brings me around the yard to show me any changes she has made or any damage nature has wrought. Sure, there's that natural pride of ownership. We like to show friends and family our homes, but it seems to be more than that. There seems to be something in our blood that is still attached to the land. It is getting thinner I'm afraid to say (I live in "the Big City"). I don't despair. My brother and his wife live on a small farm. They have one son and another baby on the way. My brother is proud of his land, and I hope he will be able to pass it on.

A Woman Gardening

Her hands in the dirt
speak to her of her father's passing.
Spreading the damp soil between her fingers
she sees the loss of his fields; dwindling
until there is just a plot in the yard.
She yanks the weeds free of the ground,
their pungent smell recalling
her father's lingering aroma of alfalfa and coffee
and skin warm as sun-baked earth.
Her glance catches the sun
making silhouettes of the picket fence,
jogging loose memories of shelter belts
from childhood days long since gone.
Shaking her head clear of such visions
she wipes her brow with gnarled hands
and feels her farmer blood flow.