I stand alone in the yard of the farm I’ve started calling Manderley and look and listen. The morning is foggy; low cloud blankets the prairie like a soft cotton quilt. The landscape looks cold because of the fog but it isn’t really. I find it pleasant standing here.
I look to the west at some of the outbuildings. They still stand strong after many years of service to the family that originally homesteaded this land, joined now by a silver quonset and a trio of silver granaries.
I turn toward the east and see the house; Gerry is inside looking around in the nooks and crannies at pipes and structural details that have little interest to me. No one lives there now but it has not been completely cleaned out yet. Earlier I saw little sign on the wall near the entry way that said something about fun happening at Grandma’s house.
Then I turn my gaze toward the south where snow still covers the quarter-section of land. In a few months wheat will be growing on that land that now looks so barren.
As I walk back toward the house I find myself breathing deeply as I take in the crisp morning air. It feeds a part of me that has been starving for something lately.
Behind the house is the area which is reserved for garden. A homemade greenhouse stands nearby just waiting for a fresh batch of seedlings to fill it’s shelves. An old outhouse, no longer used, adds character to the space.
As I hear the voice of the land whisper to me I realize that there is no other sound. There is no other sound. It is still and absolutely silent this morning, and it is that silence that allows me to hear the voice of the land.
Awesome mom! How exciting for you, you're starting a new chapter…!!
Sounds like my cove walks – beautiful
my fave line: "It feeds a part of me that has been starving for something lately."
Thanks Linda dear for an evocative posting. I could feel the fog, see the landscape, and felt it seep into my bones.
Don't we all have that sense of "starving" for something? I often feel that too.
Sharon Lovejoy Writes from Sunflower House and a Little Green Island
"As I hear the voice of the land whisper to me I realize that there is no other sound. There is no other sound."
Beautiful image. Beautiful sound.
Oh my gosh, that's a lot of snow! I am obsessed with the older properties around here, that still have their outbuildings, low walls and cisterns, all fashioned from local stone. I love imagining how the people lived when they were first built. It's not hard to imagine how much fun your grandkids could have on a place like this. And Christmas, oh my! Better hang onto that little sign you mentioned!
Wow! Is this prairie in the States? Won't you be lonely out there???
Terri, it's in Saskatchewan. Lonely? No – I enjoy solitude!