Come Sit With Me, Let's Feel The Whispers..

I sat up on the hill by the garden this evening, the skies settling into a pink and purple dusk. The cool green grass underneath me, and perfect gentle breezes lifting my hair up just enough to taunt a playful kitten in my lap to swat at the blonde strands as they swept across my chin and neck.

"Hey now," I playfully scolded as I plucked his paw off my collarbone, "let's put those claws away, Mister."

Winnie, Truffle, and John, the farm dogs (not one over 10 pounds) played tag around the garden and, as it seemed, I was "base", as one would come careening around the pumpkin patch and collapse by my bare feet as if to say "SAFE!". The kitten in my lap didn't pay them any mind, he was still stalking my strands of hair.

Dusty was quietly making his "rounds" in the garden; carefully inspecting the tomatoes, then the cucumbers, and then over to the green beans, picking off a few to bring to me for approval. "Oh those are good ones!" I praised.

He is very proud of his garden, and tends to it diligently. He knows when things are about ready to pick, and when they maybe need another day or so. A very important job for a five year old!

Baby Sam toddled around behind Dusty for a bit, picking off a few cherry tomatoes and tossing them to the dirt. After awhile he went to the little wooden wagon and climbed in, then back out, then back in, 'cause he could.

Isabelle came out of the house just as a breeze caught her by surprise, sending goosebumps up her body. "It's COLD tonight!" she said softly, rubbing her arms against the chill.

"Ohhh it's PERFECT!" I cheered. Isabelle came up to the garden and stood over me, watching as the dogs chased and tore around the yard, literally ripping up bits of grass as they went. It was very comical. Little John can turn on a dime, and leaves zigzag tracks all around the place. He gets to going so fast ya can barely see his legs pumping underneath him.

"Come sit with me...." I lovingly invited, pushing the kitten aside and motioning to Isabelle to sit in my lap. Down she came and got situated. I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her in close, she leaned into my warmth.

It was certainly a cooler night, very unusual for mid-July. No humidity, no mosquitos. Isabelle's hair was long and wavy from the braided pigtails she had had in earlier, and when the breeze picked up again it too swept her strands across her chin and neck. She reached up and pulled it back away from her face.

The trees were swaying with the winds, leaves rustling like an early-autumn evening.

I turned my lips to her ear. "Let's feel the whispers in the breeze." I said quietly.

She turned her face slightly "Huh?" she asked. "What do you mean, "feel" the whispers?"

"Well", I explained, rocking her gently in my lap. "There are stories out there, waaaay out in the fields and farms and woods. Old stories and secrets and memories from long ago."

"Like Little House On The Prairie? Like THAT long ago?" she asked genuinely.

"Yes," I smiled. "And even stories before that time, and some after that time." Izzy was listening carefully.

"And sometimes, when the wind blows just right, and at just the right speed like tonight, it can gather up those stories and secrets and memories from the fields and farms and woods.... and carry them along and make whispers out of them..... But they don't speak to you in words you can hear with your ears."

"They don't?"

"No", I continued. "If you sit quietly and listen closely, as the breeze comes in around you, you can feel those stories and memories, and it will SEEM like you can hear them, even if there are no words.... Girls in aprons and bonnets, ladies in button up shoes and petticoats. Horses and buggies clip clopping down the road.....Ornery boys throwing rocks at their sisters" I giggled, pointing to her little brother who was now trying to drive a stick in the ground next to the bean plants, unaware we were speaking about him. Izzy smiled.

"So", she said. "I don't actually hear words, I feel them from inside, like in here?" She tapped on her chest.

"That's right!" I said, happy that she was sort of understanding.

We sat and enjoyed the splendor of the evening, the skies turning into darker purples and grays now. Dusty chasing the first few fireflies of the night. Sam tossing handfuls of kibble to the cats out of the feed bin. The ducks and chickens were quietly settled in.

I looked down at Izzy, who was gazing out past the garden towards the fields as some nice breezes blew in..
..and I think she was listening closely to "feel" some whispers, hehe!

:)