September 18th, 2006

Fragments from Stockton Gala Days and Gold Rush Brides waft through my mind as I find myself distracted by the yearning for simplicity, for self-sufficiency, for joying in the fruits of my labor; a more meaningful existence.

that summer fields grew high
with foxglove stalks and ivy
wild apple blossoms everywhere

From whence, such yearnings To dine from the bounty of my garden. To work with my hands. To craft. To be an artisan of any kind. To live off the fat of the land.

who were the homestead wives
who were the gold rush brides
does anybody know
do their works survive their yellow fever lives in the pages they wrote

Such a dreamer. I have yet to grow a garden. The smallest attempts I’ve made have been discouraging. Aphids and slugs. How does one grow luscious foods, sans pests I am storing inspirational links and tips on my sidebar, for future reference.

Methinks such ramblings begin in part with a troublesome commute. When the sky opens up and the rains return, though welcome, the yang to the yin is the reaction of everyday people out there, congesting the roads, trying to wield their superiority over the elements, thinking that somehow they don’t need to adjust their speed or maneuvering techniques to compensate for the weather. Times like these I long to remain home. To make my living by staying put. Let the busy world pass on by. I want to slow down. Pioneer heritage stirs within me, past generations of yankee ingenuity pull at my heartstrings, urging me to follow, to return home.

come back to me with all your heart
don’t let fear keep us apart
trees do bend, though straight and tall
so must we to others call

long have I waited for your
coming home to me
and living, deeply, our new life

the wilderness will lead you
to your heart, where I will speak
integrity and justice, with tenderness
you shall know

you shall sleep, secure with peace
faithfulness will be your joy

And then I understand. Melodies that captured my heart, from the earliest and finest memories of days gone by. These are words that formed me, that knit together with my heart and soul to form the fabric of my being. Who I am.


credits: Hosea, Come Back To Me, Gregory Norbet, OSB (Order of Saint Benedict); Stockton Gala Days, Gold Rush Brides, from Our Time in Eden, 10,000 Maniacs

This entry was posted on Monday, September 18th, 2006 at 11:24 AM and is filed under ambitions, chapters of my life, seasons/weather. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can skip to the end and leave a response. Pinging is currently not allowed.

4 Responses to “hosea”

Bec Says:

Oh yes, oh yes, thank you. This is beautiful. Yes.

Miscellania Says:

Hey! Thanks for all – well YOU know 😉
This is truly a lovely, wonderful post. Yes, songs and music strike chords in your heart. I hear and remember sweet and sorrowful things. All of which has made me, as you suggested.
Are you SURE you’re an engineer ! You write so well!
Smooch Mr. CHubby CHeeks! Okay, and that other fella you live with too.

myfloat Says:

What a beautiful post. You conjured up so many images and emotions. This will stay with me. Thank you.

Suse Says:

Lovely.

And it will happen. You know it will.

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