Homebodies - A ‘swinger of branches’
- Details
- Published on Sunday, March 20, 2016
By Rita Friesen
The Neepawa Banner
“One could do worse that be a swinger of birches.” Robert Frost, poet, philosopher, teacher and farmer, speaks a language that I love. A quote from his musing on fences – “good fences makes good neighbours”– had me digging out a volumes of his, now my bedtime reading.
In “Birches”, Frost imagines the delicate birches bent low, trailing their leaves on the ground, “like girls on hands and knees that throw their hair before them over their heads to dry in the sun”. They have not succumbed to the weight of an ice storm, but rather from a farm lad climbing high and swinging earthward for the sheer joy of the journey.
Why that thought this week? My imagination is still one of my best friends. I am a ‘swinger of branches’. It is a wondrous world that we inhabit. Northern Lights, aura borealis, or the dance of the angels. One and the same, common, scientific and spirit. Evergreens, sempervirens or shrouded sentinels, again, common, scientific and my world! There is a freedom in my imagination, not limited by time, space or reality. That’s what the imagination is for, instant free escapism! My simple rural life is awe filled. The mundane can become the mystical.
There are times when the tree has been bent by an ice storm. Task at hand this morning is cleaning up the yard from the debris and deposits of the winter! Urban residents may complain of the drift of salted sand that edges their street facing lawns, and if they have a free roaming pet, they get a double duty. The yard I hold title to is large. I don’t patrol the entire area but a good portion of it. And I feel better after that task is completed, safer too, no unexpected slip and slide. The north side is protected by a row of willows. The farm lads have been busy there this winter. Willow branches gathered make a quick hot fire.
As I clean up that area, I remember by daughter-in-law motivating her young brood for spring yard clean-up. The more garbage, sticks and burnable debris collected the better the bonfire, wiener and marshmallow roast. Four children plus two friends can amass a wonderful memory.
As I write, the world outside is grey and wet. I have an unpleasant chore ahead. Laying to rest the old black cat. The earth has been frozen, and today, the soil softened by the first rain of the year, there is no reason to delay. She was a good cat, mouser, companion and a unique character. But she was old and ill and her patterns had changed. It was time. Never an easy decision, to allow a pet release from pain, the path was made as easy as possible by the caring staff at the vet clinic.
And immediately following the completion of the difficult, I shall allow my imagination to soar. I will climb the tallest birch and swing earthward.
