Friday, June 25, 2010

Prairie Story 22-A Helping Hand

This astilbe looks like purple pine trees. Next are first blooms on my daisies and a huge begonia. My poor double hollyhock has lost most of its leaves due to wet weather. Some of my blooms are being picked by a neighbor boy, he said they blew over in his yard. I enjoy watching them play house, but told him to ask when they needed table decorations.


We all maintain a selfless profusion of story, myth and fable in our cultures, circumventing our existence from a Father or Mother. Whether we ascended or descended from a particular region it was often the ecology of our world, that brought us into this world. Many Native Americans ascended from the bowels of the earth, on roots or openings offered to them from nature. Funny how their theories of life preceded all geological investigations that tell us our world all comes from within. What is now was once and again, carried over eons of time. Carried from our mountains, through the massive plains, down our rivers and streams, to be carried away to great ocean depths, in a gradual progression through time.


Was there a social order that man interrupted? If all that exist carry the story, this story of life, we interrupt all or part of this continued communication and stall our spiritual progression when we disturb it. How can we make repairs, is it by ignoring all but what will interrupt our menial existence? It is up to all of us to decide, and carry out a lifestyle that can be continued and enjoyed by generations.


Peace be with you, it shall make us strong
Strong and valiant, knowing right from wrong
It seems so ridiculous, and has lasted so long
Why all of us in this world can’t get along.



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A knock came at the back door. A ragged man asked if they had any handouts. Why had he chosen their door, over the nicer homes. She did not know what to say, this had not happened for years. He said the mark said you might have odd jobs for a meal. Mark? What mark told him such, being new to the area? She told him to wait, and closed the door. Her breath was ahead of her thoughts. She put some leftover chicken and bread on a plate, and grabbed a fork for him to eat. She would have him dine on their porch, where they ate in the summer. He sat down to a Sunday dinner on Tuesday, he said, and ate all she offered plus the rest of the loaf of wonderful bread with chokecherry jam. Looking out at their small woodpile, he offered to split some logs to pay for his meal, and worked for one hour before quietly leaving. When her husband came home, he laughed at not seeing the hobo sign on his back gate, often put as a sign of welcome on the various camps they passed on the massive steam engine. He told her to be friendly and share their spirit and food with all that came to their door, as long as they offered to do a service.

Their move to the city was very different from their prairie oasis. They were told by a neighbor to always lock their door, an inconvenience they never even had when they first bought their prairie home. Modern convenience had outweighed their love for living rural, and they would never return, for many generations. They enjoyed helping others, as they had been helped in their lives also. Looking at the stars at night, they did share and relive proud moments on the prairie. Su corazon late tan fuerte cuando esta feliz, your heart beats so loud when you are happy. They reminisced many happy times, sipping coffee on their veranda, souls stirred by a cool prairie breeze.
;0)
Pride and passion
It’s not the latest fashion
But something you find
When you are in love.

10 comments:

  1. Beautiful flower photographs again.
    Costas

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  2. Love the photos!! I've never seen an Astilbe! They are Beautiful!
    Try to stay dry there friend, and Be careful in all that rain!
    hughugs

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  3. A very nice story. I can remember reading other similar stories of people being surprised to find hobo signs for their houses too. It must be a common occurrence. I know you story was much more than this, but I find the whole idea of hobo signs very interesting.

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  4. The flowers are beautiful and astilbe do look like purple pine trees.
    This
    Peace be with you, it shall make us strong
    Strong and valiant, knowing right from wrong
    It seems so ridiculous, and has lasted so long
    Why all of us in this world can’t get along.

    I absolutely love.

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  5. I will have to control myself from commenting on the many great points of this post. It would turn into a book.:)

    Native Americans walked gently on Mother Earth. They didn't take more than needed to survive. I feel they hold the answers to saving the earth, along with beloved critters..and humankind.

    Yet another splendid post with a great message, story, and pictures!

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  6. Great story and your flower shots so beautiful and inviting.

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  7. Lovely photos and thought-provoking words.

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  8. I agree great thoughts and beautiful photos

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  9. Thank you all who have read this.The hobo story surfaced with stories I heard from my grandmother, wife of a railroader, having lived close to the railyards.She was often startled, being 16 when she was married, but never turned down a soul.

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  10. That astilbe DOES look just like a little purple pine tree! I've only seen pink and white - purple is very nice :-)

    Gee...wouldn't it be nice if we could actually help a stranger passing by our home without fearing for our lives ;-) And I would LOVE to have some of that chokecherry jam (didn't know people made jam - just thought the birds ate chokecherry - duh???

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Keep it positive and informative,I enjoy hearing from you!