The Geese have returned.
Sounds like a code between spies passing in the streets in a James Bond movie or something.
To me it is the announcement of the seasons turning to winter in my part of the world.
The sound of a gaggle of geese can be heard for a quite a little distance. In the distance black dots appear to be covering the field that had been a green expanse of peanut plants during the summer but now is just the bare ground with just a hint of the dried peanut hay that had escaped the claws of the baler. The geese gather in the open fields, thousands of noisy birds, returning year after year to the same location. They found our little community some years ago and began to grace us with the annual visit. I love to stand outside and hear them or find them in the field behind my own house. It is one of those sites and sounds that makes me appreciate living in the country, one of those things that make me think that one day I will look back on this time and miss them when the world around us has changed into whatever the future holds for us. Like Christmas carolers singing along the river walk, this is a nostalgic moment....remember it. These are Rockwell moments in our time like watching the dance recitals of my granddaughters and Kristen is inspecting the rafters over the stage while the other girls are going through their dance routine or Joel's expression at the Christmas program at church while they are lined up in a chorus of happy children singing angelically when he realizes that Eric has grabbed the microphone behind them and is singing into it with all of his heart.
Rockwell didn't just live in a perfect time in a perfect life therefore painting such fun times. No, actually living through a time of wars in the 20th century, once divorced, twice married,his art studio burned to the ground during his career, and given to moods he choose to paint a time that made us stop and cherish the moments in our lives. He wanted us to glean the good from the bad.
Slow down this season and enjoy the moment.
These times pass quickly and soon are forgotten unless we tag them in our memories.
I heard the geese too as I got in my truck to go home. And I thought: "Wow. Maybe it'll get cold?
ReplyDeleteWhen we lived in Brookshire, we were in a flight path of ducks and geese. Living in a mobile home, you could certainly hear them as they flew over each time - we would drive to church and see the fields covered in white as they landed to rest or eat! It was so neat to anticipate their arrival each Winter!
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