The Last Days of Summer: 1968

The Last Days of Summer: 1968

The clay soil here is ironware-hard. Dad, nevertheless, muscles and thrusts a long steel spike into it. It bounces like a pogo hopper.

To break it up, he says.

This, on the hottest day of any that I can recall, and he’s weighted a yellow sheet of grid paper under a stone that maps out where he’ll plant early-cropping potatoes, and garlic. Onions go over there. Tomatoes there, and marigolds everywhere else, like stars lighting the Milky Way. Mum wants cosmos and sweet peas.

Tidy rows, divided and aligned with and by the sun’s movement, and his overthinking what’s best, because Dad insists on what’s best. Perhaps I look at him through the wrong end of the long telescope of Time.

If only my life choices had been so easily aligned with his map. Spoilt for choice puts too many stones in the road.

dVerse Prosery including the line ‘We look at him through the wrong end of the long telescope of Time’. from D.H. Lawrence’s ‘Humming Bird’   © Misky 2020 Image from unSplash CC:00

7 responses to “The Last Days of Summer: 1968”

  1. A wonderful remembrance…..and it’s true. That simple map he drew out and then planted accordingly….wouldn’t it be wonderful if we could do that and then have everything align?
    I enjoyed this and love the illustration…perfect for the fields.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. This has a lovely lazy, hazy day of summer feel, Misky, and such a lovely memory! It made me feel nostalgic. I love the compound adjective ‘ironware-hard’ and the simile ‘bounces like a pogo hopper’ – that took me back. Dad is very well-organised, with his planting map and tidy rows, but what a contrast is the riot of ‘marigolds everywhere else, like stars lighting the Milky Way’. I love marigolds.

    Liked by 1 person

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