Tuesday, April 5, 2011

A Day on Neff Road

Shhhh. I'm having a quiet moment. I'm lying on my back on the hill by that home back the lane on Neff Road. I hear the cows in the creek bottom and the sheep in the barnyard. The chickens are clucking and scratching. Mom is cooking. I can hear the sound of pots and pans. Betty must be over because I hear her talking.

Dad must be in the back field by the woods. I hear the tractor. A bit earlier I heard his birdlike whistling just before he left the barn. Carl is in his field. I hear his tractor as well. Gene has to be in the barn. I smell his cigar smoke. Someone is mowing the lawn on down the road. A horse and buggy are going down the road. Hollie just plowed the field next to the lane. I smell the rich, black soil.

If I listen more closely, I can hear the crops rustle with the breeze passing through them. I smell the cows and the grass. I smell the hay in the barn and the dirt and oil in the old garage. The birds are singing in the mulberry tree and the maple tree. I smell the flowers growing below the hill next to the field.

The chatter in the kitchen has moved to the porch. The old porch swing creaks, and I hear the snap of beans. Creak, creak. Creak, creak.

A day on the farm. A moment spent looking up at the clouds on a blue canvas. A day in the memory of a farm girl. A day on Neff Road.

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