My dream has always been to live on a mountain top or at least a hill where I can see the sun come up in the morning and go down in the evening. Where you can look out and see forever. I love the view from the Ed Wilkinson Building at Bell Park. The view to the east is spectacular. Although I love a beautiful sunset, I don’t know why because I think that is the saddest time of the day. Why do I think of it as a sad time? I have never understood why I feel the way I do in the evening. I guess everyone has a quirk of some kind and this is “one” of mine. I can stand and admire a beautiful sunset, feel close to tears, and heavy hearted all at the same time. I have often thought it is because I wonder if I have used the day to its full advantage or have I wasted it away? Regardless of how I feel at sunset I still love to see the beautiful colors of it. I know I will never live on a hill much less a mountain but I can still use my imagination which is pretty good. When Sister Maxine lived in Montana her house was in the valley looking into the mountains. The view was beautiful. She was surrounded by mountains. As far as one could see was mountains, each one being just a little taller then the others. As beautiful as that was I think I had rather look down at the valley than look up to the mountains. When I was small our family entertainment on Sundays was driving through the country side or should I say Sebastian County. I can just see the desolation of most of the farm houses. As a young child I felt sad for the farmer trying to eke out a living as this was during the Great Depression. Today one can drive the country roads seeing a very different scenery. No longer are farm houses run down property but beautiful property and houses. Something I miss as I drive along is the herds of cattle one used to see. In place of cattle you can see big tractors and other farm equipment. I really admire farm families. If Mama could have owned a farm when she was young she would have made a good farmer. She loved to plant the seed, watch them grow and harvest her labor. She loved working in the soil. As she aged and began to lose her eyesight her three sons made her a table garden. A garden where she could stand and work the soil and plant the seed. She was so happy working in her table garden she wrote this poem.
MY TABLE GARDEN
My steps are slow, my eyes are dim
I cannot garden now
For many years I tilled the soil
With hoe and garden plow.
Gardening to me was like a song
Each day brought something new
And now that I am “sorta” old
I can’t admit I’m through.
As long as there are pots and pans
And plain old garden dirt
I’ll make a garden you can bet
With very little work.
Now that my garden is table high
I do not have to bend.
I thank the Lord for giving me
A garden I can tend.
While Mama loved the farm land I love the hill top. I used to try to get Frank to buy some property on what at that time was called Water Tank Hill. He either
didn’t hear me or just plain ignored me. He was happy in the “Valley”.