The Cicadas Song - Part Six
Posted: Friday, August 27, 2010
by Richard Radtke
http://www.cottagebythelane.com
"The land has many faces, spring, summer, fall and winter. Each one is different; each one brings its own beauty, and its own problems. With spring the first blooms open, and the storms never seem to stop. Summer brings with it long, lazy days, and the heat that hangs in the air. With the coming of fall there are colors painted upon the leaves that soon will slowly fall to the ground, and with that, the knowledge that soon winter winds will howl. Winter blows in with a pristine white of a newly fallen snow that blankets the land. It all comes in its time, a cycle that is and will be until that rhyme too is changed."
It was early fall; the leaves were painted in colors that were seen only in an artist's soul. Here and there a few trees hung on to the green of summer, hold-outs waiting until they too knew there was no hope that the warm days would drag on for an eternity. Knowing that this last warm morning of fall was just a precursor to the not so far off time of cold north winds and the snow of winter was sad, but it was the cycle of the land. The crops had been brought in for the most part; the fields were now denuded, covered with the scars of another successful harvest. In a few places cornstalks still stood tall having escaped the teeth of the combine that rolled through the fields, each one of them a sentinel, standing guard over an army of corn that was no more. Soon the cold would kill them, their tall slender stalks would go from green to brown, the snows of winter would cover them, and perhaps in the birth of a new spring they would still stand, perhaps not.
In the grove around the homeplace the cicadas sang each night, now and then one would clumsily flutter into the light of the porch, its wings beating furiously, if it hit the light it would perhaps fall to the ground. If not it would usually dart back out into the night out past the light into the shadows of the grove, and there join in with its fellows in song.
It was this time of the year that the family spent much time on the porch, spring and summer had come and gone, the harvest was done, and it was time to take a breath, sit back and reflect. As the last rays of sunlight pulled back from the land and the shadows once more began to fall, small specks of light would begin to appear as the stars had themselves come down from the heavens to visit for the night. They would flicker, each a beacon, and the boys would run from here to there catching one, then another. Will too, at times would do the same playing with the boys. Liz, Seth and Agatha would watch from the porch, smiling as the boys would sometimes come up and show them their prizes. These were the times of family, the times that were treasured, the times that in years to come would be looked back upon with fond memories, and a smile upon all their faces.
When the darkness was complete, and the stars that bejeweled the night sky danced in its heights. The children would be sent off to bed, accompanied by Liz or Will to make sure they cleaned up, changed, and were tucked in for the night. The other adults would continue to sit and watch the porch swing would creak as it was moved back and forth. Some nights not many words were said, the moment itself saying them all, other nights they would talk about their day, or the past, or the future. It did not really matter what they talked about or even thought about it was enough to be there, in the end that was all that mattered.
There were times when Seth would become a bit philosophical, usually when Will would comment on something happening in the markets, or on the farm. It was these times that they would sit back knowing that it was useless to interrupt him, and sometimes was worth listening too. On this night Will had been talking to them all regarding the purchase of Liz's father's land, something he and Liz had discussed in the past, and now that her father had finally decided to retire and sell, Will had decided it was time to bring it up to his father, as they were partners in the farm. When he broached the subject that was about as far as he was able to get, Seth listened for a moment, then began to talk about the old days. Seth was progressive had been for a long time he knew that the days of small farms were numbered and he had instilled that knowledge in his son just as deep as his dad, Aaron had in him.
To Will he said, "Son, your right if you can get it you should try to get it. I have always told you that you have to keep moving in this life, the second you stop moving forward, well, that is the time you may as well just pack it in. Nothing comes from nothing, it is hard work and dreams that get you ahead, but you have to work those dreams too, they can't just be floating around in your head." Will smiled at the memory of the number of times he had heard that, but his dad was right, you had to work hard and make those dreams your goals or else you were just sticking in the mud and that got you nowhere. To his father, Will just nodded and smiled then said, "Dad I am glad you're okay with this, I think it's the right thing to do, if we can do it. I'll get the ball rolling on this tomorrow." And so it went, another day was over, overhead the stars continued to shine as they wheeled slowly through the night sky, and the cicadas continued to sing.
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Top-level comments on this article: (2 total)Hi Richard! Your opening paragraph is so intense, it's amazing, like a jewel. I enjoy the way you bring the focus in close to your characters, then draw back and show them in the setting of life in its inexorable march.Thank you, I appreciate your feedback.
I have enjoyed reading this story Richard. You have a knack of drawing the reader in. Please keep on writing and sharing with us.GraceThank you for taking the time to read this, I appreciate your thoughts on it.
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