Country Echoes

| May/June 1959

R. D. 2, Brandon, Wisconsin

Why is it that when spring again rolls around there invariably comes with it echoes of the past? Older folks tell me this increases with age. If this is true I'm surely going to have-some good times if I ever reach the rocking chair stage of life.

Perhaps it is the return of the geese, and the gaily warbling blackbirds which bring back so vividly to mind some gems for remembering.

So well I remember one beautiful day last spring when my husband called me out on our back porch to view some honking geese who were winging their way with exuberant grace through sunny skies. As we watched their progress, with hearts full of the anticipation only spring can bring to rural folks, the blackbirds, with their pert harmony, intruded their presence into our reverie. Ah! What a welcome intrusion! They were so boisterously happy, one could only share their mood. They left no alternative.

How it took me back to another days way back to when we called our back porch nothing more or less than a stoop. How well I remember that jutting old stoop on the south side of a house that has lived for some years past only in memory. No railing graced it's worn down edges to protect from danger the children who wore it down with their zest. To the left of its sturdy framework, on a rough rack built for that purpose, blinked the array of farm milk ware, receiving in the noon-day sun the best sterilization that day afforded. I can, to this day, wince at the memory of the heat encountered by an accidental contact with one of the sizzling cooler cans on a hot summer day as they patiently awaited their evening filling of rich golden cream. In close proximity rested the rotund separator with its fascinating assortment, of necessary parts. It wasn't too many years later that they became much less fascinating to a tall country girl who was quite occasionally expected to wash them.

Yes it was from this stoop I had also viewed spring's wonder as I was viewing it again. Now it was from my own back porch. It is the same farm but much changed. However, some things continue to endure. There was the same song from a different generation of blackbirds; other gray wings soaring through sun-bejeweled skies, and now a porch, not a stoop being worn paint less by another generation of busy feet. Now isn't it nice to know as we anticipate another spring through it all 'God Abideth Forever.'


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