4 O’clocks | Life on a Colorado Farm

I was standing in my kitchen ironing yesterday

When a wild wind blew up

It was part of a rainstorm racing along the Uncompahgre Plateau, filling the canyons with droplets of very wet liquid

The storm was rambunctious, but only on the plateau

I continued ironing, watching the storm clouds throwing spears of lightening

When suddenly the back door flew open. I turned quickly thinking I also heard a pick-up drive up

The door opened; banged and I heard “LINDA!”

“What”, I replied. Feeling very puzzled.

Twice more the door flew open and twice more I heard my name

Then I realized it was my Dad calling me for the voice then said: “Come here, Linda”. (Or did he say: “I am here, Linda.”?)

I went to the door and then on outside; standing on the back step my heart fluttering in my rib cage

I wasn’t afraid, just eager to see my Dad again.

Just once more. To actually see him and hold his hand, like I was a tot again.

But, of course, he wasn’t there. There was only the wind, the yard, and a storm dropping lush moisture on canyon rims.

From my world to your heart,

Linda

The bees are very busy now…flying back to the hives, their bodies covered with pollen; the droning sound they make so much a part of the landscape one must pay attention to hear it.

The company of the plants are still soothing to the eyes and the soul

But the signs are there; spangling the edges, hurrying the plants along, pushing and a nudging–to set seeds — prepare for that long sleep called winter

The autumn winds will soon arrive, rustling across the plateau, through the canyons and bursting forth upon our mesa—flinging dry leaves across the land, stripping the trees bare