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.’
