Written by me just a year ago; at the end of Summer. As the approach of my favorite season of Autumn occurs it reminds me of the many sensations this time of year creates in our memories. Please enjoy! ~ Eric
Laying on my back-side at the knoll of a grassy hilltop. The sunlight streams at lowly shadowing angles from just above my ever-so-old, slate roofed, clapboard homestead farmhouse that sits along the timber-railed fence. This fence was built by my father with me. This fence runs between the long dirt driveway and the shallow stream where the many clusters of wildflowers of the surrounding fields have come to grow.
Firm and fertile northeastern soils are speckled with clumps of granite stone, speckled with glints of mica as the sunlight teases crevices of each to express dazzling multicolored hues as though the entire night’s sky shown stars within the face of each and every rock. So many other stones as these will remain buried to sleep quietly below moss and brush. This land has not been plowed as so many rugged Yankee farms may have been. This land my family has…
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