To the Mail

I took a walk to the mail today. It's about a 1/2 mile each way--perfect for a lunchtime break.












I thought about those who came before me on this old land. I thought about how interconnected they were...not in ways we strive to be, but in ways they needed to be.

Huge old haying fields such as this could not have been managed alone. Men and boys moved from field to field and farm to farm during those long, hot days of summer cutting the sweet, dry hay.


The fields needed to be cleared for wheat and corn. The stone walls rose maybe walling in, maybe walling out, but always making good neighbors.






In autumn, they ground their grain...








...and the children walked to school--65 of them converging on this crossroads from farms in all four directions.


The teacher boarded at each farm. The men took turns providing the wood to heat the school and the time to make repairs such as to this outhouse.


In March, they tapped the trees and boiled the sap through the long cold nights while playing the fiddle, keeping each other company, and enjoying the chance to be outside after the winter snows.















I can imagine the women walking this road to spend an afternoon spinning or quilting as they shared work, news, and friendship.









Just for a day, I'd like to follow this wall, into the shadows of time, and meet those who cleared this land, walked our roads, worked our fields, and borrowed cups of sugar.