pear lane

There are some things in your life, 

in your season, 

in your evening

that bring all good things together.

These things show the essence of something, 

the exact illustration of a feeling or an emotion.

For me it's 

an evening walk down Pear Lane.

That is summer.

It's my summer now.

Not the summer of my childhood.

It's the summer of my childrens' childhood.

It's the irrigation water running down the ditches 

that my children swam in when they were little.

The same water that quenches the blackberries 

that fill our pantry 

with wild blackberry jam 

for the seasons ahead.

It's the neighboring farmer's gate that my children sneak through 

to spy the fish

swimming in the

summer water troughs.

It's the giant oak that stands in the middle of the pasture, 

witnessing every season and showing it through it's branches.

The golden dried grass smooth around it.

The black cows sleeping under it.

The summer sun setting behind it.

It's summer.

It's home.

It's walking hand in dirty little hand
with my children, walking with my husband,
listening to the collective quiet exhale as evening emerges in the shade
and the hot day fades away.

It's Pear Lane.