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I awoke from a
sentimental dream in which I spoke with an art teacher I had so many
years ago. The dream was foolish, but so real, it was almost as if it
the conversation really happened. When I rolled over and glanced out the
window to see what weather was there, I was not surprised to see a
blanket of snow, all over the trees, lawn, and bushes. Usually these
dreams stick in my mind just like the snow last night had stuck to our
grounds.
My cousin-friend was,
always childlike, easily coerced into an adventure, and this is what I
had done.
“I’m bubble-headed and
not connecting too well,” I told her. It’s to the point I’m putting the
salt in the refrigerator, catsup under the sink, and paper towels in the
middle of the table. There’s nothing other than the usual six and
sevens, but I’m feeling so overwhelmed, I can’t remember if I gave
Mother her medicine, washed her clothes, did her breathing treatment or
not. I’m having to write everything down, I think I’m getting more
addled than she is and I’m not 94.
“I want to drive over in
the Osage just to clear these cobwebs out of my mind. The air is so
clean and fresh over there after a snow. I feel if I could inhale a bit
of the prairie beauty my brain synapses might become connected again, or
whatever.”
“Sure.” My cousin was
ready for anything to break the monotony of being shut in during our bad
weather. Personally, I wanted to entertain her during this short visit
from California as much as anything. I was relatively sure she had never
seen the outbacks of Osage County.
Our car sped over the now
sun cleared roads, across the bridge over the Kaw lake, and on toward
the small town of Shidler. Some miles out of Shidler she broke the
silence.
“Oh my! I can breath
easier here. What is that? I think it must be the broadness of the land.
Just look at the snow on the pastures and aren’t those Black Angus
cattle beautiful against the white fields? The clouds! the clouds! Each
one looks as if they can come right down on top of us. What is that
grass? I’ve never seen any growing wild like that and so tall, too.
“Blue Stem, its called.”
I told her. See how many cattle are being grazed on it. This is because
we had a good rainy season, last year leaving ample growth. The grass is
some of the richest, highest in protein at any place.”
“Everything is so in
balance with cycles,” my cousin observed as she watched the wild geese
flying over head. “Look! A hawk.”
“He’s out looking for a
mouse, probably, I told her.”
“I brushed away tears as
I drove up to my brother’s home. It was the first time the car had been
down the long juniper lined drive since I was there for his death. “Stop
it!” I silently chastised myself and quickly brought my emotions under
control.
After a short visit with
my sister-in-law we drove up past the old home place. Somehow, that old
lady always beckoned to me and still could give my heart a jump start
again even with seeing her at the end of the long drive. It was good for
me. Then we were on our way and started back toward Shidler.
“I don’t have my boots or
we would have walked up there.” I told my cousin. The reasons were that,
but more, too. I didn’t want her to be shocked at the interior of the
place. I was past being shocked at the sight of it, but the rubble of
destruction would surely be new to her. I didn’t want this tired woman,
who was seeking recreation to see ugly things today.
The waitress at a small
café in Shidler gave us a huge cup of coffee, as big as the ones we used
to serve to the cowboys. She was a tall, lovely blond with the look of
holding genes from some Scottish-Irish back ground, or maybe German. Her
Celtic hair style only added to her beauty. Even though the bowl of
chili she brought was huge and at a most reasonable cost, I managed to
finish the whole thing.
The sound of children
playing as I walked up to my own home, was a good-greeting and the
cobwebs were gone. My vision opened up, so I could see the beauty of
these happy children, the warm house, and Mother quietly visiting in the
living room with my daughter. |
