Timeless
It’s somewhere in Nebraska. I don’t know where, but several years ago I saw a photograph in a magazine of a scene so idyllic and memorable that I wanted to look at it and let it work its magic on me. So I did some research on the Internet, send off some e-mails, and made calls to Nebraska. A few weeks later, I had an 11 x 14 inch enlargement of that picture, from the original negative, hanging on the wall of my study, directly in front of my desk.
And so, when I look up, I can fix my gaze on that scene and be transported there for awhile, if I so choose. It depends on my mood and frame of mind. For instance, even though I am writing now while sitting at the beach, I am picturing this: There’s a backyard way out in farming country in what is probably one of the most rural parts of eastern Nebraska. A gravel road stretches off in the distance on the right. A white picket fence surrounds the yard, and in back of that is a windmill. From an old oak tree hangs a swing. And, if you could see me there, you would learn that I had just finished a midday dinner of fried chicken, green beans, rice and gravy, cornbread, corn on the cob and fresh tomatoes, iced tea and lemonade. (I’m imagining favorite noon-time country meals are pretty similar wherever you go). There was apple pie and ice cream for dessert (real home-churned ice cream, not low-fat ice milk of frozen yogurt). I’ve come from the porch, bringing a cold glass of lemonade with me, and I’m standing in the back yard on this warm day in August. My shoes have been left behind on the porch, and the cool grass under the oak tree feels good on my bare feet. Ahead of me, off in the distance are undulating fields of corn, brown stalks dry and crackling in the wind.
I am full from the meal, as content as it’s possible to be, for a while anyway, and I spot that sturdy swing hanging from the oak. Soon, like the child I only briefly was, I am swinging up high, reaching toward that blue sky over the cornfields, almost defying gravity, as one invariably tries to do while on a swing. Then, I’m earthbound again, only to rise up higher in the other direction, gaining momentum. How delicious a sensation to feel free for a moment or two in that swing, up high and then back down to earth. Again and again. I am a mere mortal trying, and almost succeeding, in shaking loose from Earth, suspended between land and sky, for just a split second. What will it be? To fly free or come down to Earth once again?
I can only think of the answer as I sit here writing, daydreaming at twilight on Folly Beach, visiting another place that exists only in my imagination as well as in a photograph hanging on the wall.
Everytime I look for another entry I hold my breath fearing there will be none and all the pages are but dreams that never were. Lived there, raised hybrid seed corn..in Nebr.
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I read other diaries for the drama of peoples’ lives. I come here for the serenity.
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Yes, I would say you’re in a very nice spot.
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I’m sitting on the porch swing, wondering if I will walk around back and see you swinging there. Oh to be kids again! Let’s both swing and I’ll push you and then you can push me! We are each about 10 yrs old! Love,
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I would only add someone playing a hymn on the upright piano in the parlor — music tinkling out the window.
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What a relaxing, wonderful picture! I would certain have tried to swing high up in the sky, too. It’s like flying. To be free.
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What peace, Oswego!!! I have a painting in my house or actually a reprint of a painting that probably came from a dime store but it is of a mill with a wheel turning and the flow of a wide river over…
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layers and layers of time smoothed stones. The print is so clear it is almost as if it were a photo but you can see the brush strokes to the smallest blade of grass and leaf on the trees behind the rustic mill..
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It is somewhere that I feel I could spend forever. Despite several nice original paintings I do have, this is my favorite and hangs in a place of honor. This beautiful entry took me to your place. Thank you.
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oswego …you always look back darlin… ((in response to your note you left)) you make me want to describe the picture i look at…The Accolate by Leighton
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It’s true: Your entries do evoke peacefulness and serenity.
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Your descriptions are so incredible. I coold feel the cool grass.I actually laughed out loud imagining swinging so high and coming down with that funny feeling in your stomach. Love rice and gravy!
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So descriptive, I was there with you. Could almost taste the corn!
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I lived that imaginary Nebraska evening with you, and loved it.
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Beautiful mental image ty for sharing this peace (spirit under repair)
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Where I live is not much different from Neb. but it sounds much nicer with your way of words. Swinging, however made me sick, but homemade ice cream sounds really good today when the heat index is 105*
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You know, that’s just exactly the way it is here in Dakota — the way you fill out the details in that picture.
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I don’t think anything is timeless, everything is in a state of constant change. I guess it is almost an illusion that ones seeks, to no avail.
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That place would be my Heaven with a couple (or 3) dogs around me.
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Shades of Robert Lewis Stevenson! Pretty picture Oswego!
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thank you. sometimes i feel very paranoid and confused mainly spending a lot of time by myself does this but it just comes down to a feeling i guess.
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This is like being there wth you. Very well done,Oswego
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Instantly transported to another time & place. Let me sit awhile & just enjoy its peacefulness & the gentle nudging of its nostalgic caresses. You are a jewel, my friend ~ a treasure to discover in each visit. 🙂
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You mind takes you to beautiful places… thank you for the tour.
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an entry that makes one feel free…super nice…smiles…
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I feel the dust on my skin and the wind whipping through my hair as I smell the distant odor of cow manure in the air. 🙂
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Even as a small child I played a game. I closed my eyes and painted mental pictures of places I’d rather be, new surroundings, a different sense of place.
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Flying…is magical. 🙂 Beautiful entry, as always. dear Oswego. You lift heart and spirits in a beautiful way.
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You write this so vivid! Beautiful how this pictures comes to life through your words. I read this three times because I like it so much. Isn’t it fascinating that we are given the ability to dream? But now, AGAIN, at this time of the night, after a tyring hike at the beach…where is my apple pie and ice cream? Who said he wasn’t talking about food too often? ;o) Huh?? Take care,
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