THE WATERMELON SONG
Plant a watermelon upon my grave
That is all I ask of you
Now momma makes the chicken
And she makes it mighty fine
But nothing tastes better
Than her watermelon pie
So plant a watermelon on my grave
That's all I ask of you!
These Hackberry butterflies are puddling, sharing a worm with flies.
It has been that story, the story of life, which has carried our history on this earth. How else would we know, or at least assume where we have came from? It was a set of words and sounds in nature to share and communicate with it. Many different cultures and all religions have based their wisdom on it. The greatest story ever told, but have you ever heard it?
Can we open our eyes wide enough to fully interpret all that is around us and enjoy it to the fullest? We are often offset in various philosophies, or even oceans of not thinking, that keep us from fully understanding our world around us. It is all too simple, and oft repeated for you to understand on this great prairie. The sand, rock and soil we stand on was graciously shared with us through glaciers, erosion and wind. It was carried from the mountains and lands all around us. What was returned and what was shared? Our once vast oceans of prairie, were also once vast oceans. Hilltops and valleys formed from massive coral reefs still carry oceanic debris. Through these massive limestone drifts, life is carried down to great depths, that story of life. If all life understands this story, we need to look deeper into our own lives to absorb this great wisdom, and further build our understanding of its usage. Every tiny existence on this earth has part, if not all of this story. A troubled part of this is if it is not told or heard again, a part may be lost or misinterpreted. This is why it was carried in all lore and thought, to keep a level of living to let us all live in harmony. If we live in a land of change, what can happen if we misinterpret these natural cycles of comfort and love, all shared on this gentle prairie breeze?