At 72 I’m so far away from my Ponca grandmother actually very little remains of her wisdom and lore laced metaphors.  However, recently the acquaintance of a Ponca woman brought Grandmother back to me as easily as a curtain blowing in the wind drifts back and forth. Her softly spoken observation catches my attention and the movement of language is like that, you know. To reflect on what is heard but has been brought about by some unseen thought can suddenly bring back another world

The nozzle of the water hose was draped over a chair. She picked it up and was gently watering the plants about the patio. I was impressed with the way she held the water back with the spray striking the plants in a soft, loving way.

The Poncas were farmers, I remembered. The feelings of the original Poncas, is displayed in small ways like this. Living things are very much respected and at one time were considered to actually have a spirit (or feeling) of their own. She turned the hose back over toward the empty bird-bath.

"These birds will smell this water." She commented.

That was when a picture of my grandmother came to my mind. I could hear her saying something just like this. My White culture had totally removed the thought from my mind that the birds can smell. I then wonder about this.

"Can birds smell?" I’m thinking.

The peaceful scene was interrupted by the bawling of the male animal in the stock pen behind us. The sound is annoying to me because I’m put out with a neighbor who is trying to ranch two acres.

"It’s spring," my friend notices, "Time for the live stock to mate!"

Instead of being displeased my friend positively accepted the world around her and the realities of life and living. Today was a day for me to recall.

I remember, and appreciate the lore of my grandmother so long ago gone from this world, and all in the easily spoken language of another time.