So today AOL my real mood is Melancholy mixed with Mischief.
I don't like red. My favorite shades of color are pastels, earth tones. But if there has been enough moisture, a modicum of hail, and no winds over 60 mph? Then this time of year my favorite color is green. The grass on the hill behind me is about three feet tall and yes, GREEN. With a breeze the entire hill is being transformed into a green sea, an ocean on the prarie, choppy waves made of tall green reeds with beige tassles playing the role of foam.
Well, there are a few things missing. Where's the rythmic banging of the waves against the side of the boat? Where is the high pitched squeal of the reel as the fisherman casts his line. Where are the circling seagulls, the diving pelicans begging their share of the take. Where is the "zinggggg" of the 10 pound test line as the barricuda takes the bait and sprints for home? Where is the "Krak...Phizz" of the beer can pull tab? Where is the eirie soft fog muffling the creaking planks of the boat, and the "flap,flap,flap,flap" of the chatty waves. A person could get homesick.
Where is the blister from fighting the barricuda? Where is the three day old coffee made of equal measurements of grounds and water? Where is the chill and the sting of salt water as the boat battles the swells? Where is the persistent and innescapable odor of fish guts yanked from their functions? Where are the rounds of competitive belches from the beer and candy bars? Where are the convulsive heaving noises of fisherman leaning over the rails, leaving their lunch for Davy Jones? Where is the combination sun and wind burn that will last a week? Where is the fifty dollars I lost in the biggest fish pool.
So now back to the tall green grass on the hill behind me. Please?
1 comment:
Our mother was born in Kansas, a real prairie girl. When we were very young she would get all meloncholy and reminess about the beautiful prairie grass waving in the wind. She was nearly as elequont as you about that silly prairie grass. She had bouts of homesickness for her home and her people.
I am still laughing about the year we had driven miles and miles through the beautiful prairer grass to get to a family reunion. She was silent and meditative. Pretty soon she said, "You know this prairie grass isn't as pretty as it used to be, I believe I like the ocean better. I breathed a sign of relief, because I knew she was okay with living in California.
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