Flying Fingers
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My best friend Karin and her husband Dan are remodeling their home in preparation to selling it.
We got a call from them yesterday morning, saying Dan had been up to a rock quarry the day before, getting rocks for his landscaping project, they were both going today, it's a great scenic drive, views of the upper Clackamas (jokingly said to be called that because the native americans would go down the river in their birch bark canoes, get out and say "ha! that river clack-um-ass!" Because of all the rocks, you see!), and Mt. Hood, and choice swimming holes in the upper Clackamas, and did we want to come?
So we grabbed suits, towels, bottled water and out we headed.
We rolled along through hobbit forests and bright blue skies.
Once at the quarry, the men went and sized up the rockery to be had while Karin and I got off some shots of Mt. Hood, watched the dog to make sure she didn't take off after a rabbit in a log, and I even tried my hand at banging two rocks together to make a clovis point spearhead.
We had a nice day out in the woods, a nice picnic (plenty of flat table-sized rocks lying around, thank goodness Dan didn't want to try and take those home), and the company of good friends.
On the way home, in Marty's Camaro with the T-tops off, last bits of golden light touched green leaves and danced off the water. Cool sweet air rushed by; once in a while as we passed an isolated farm, the scent of hay and clover would fill the air.
Once, we passed a farm with a piece of farm machinery sitting near the road. Perched on it like sparrows on a wire were a group of children, in summer shorts and tee shirts. One boy had a red popsicle ring around his mouth.
They waved to the car in front of us, they waved to us. They waved to the car behind us, and the cars in the opposite lanes, too. We all waved back, I'm sure, I know I did, it was such a lovely thing to see, it brought a smile to my face, and I felt like stopping the car and joining them up on their perch, waving to the cars that pass, and perhaps imagining where those cars were headed, or where they'd been; to the mountain, maybe, or headed to the coast, to Zanzibar, oh look, that old pickup there, maybe he's got some 'shine stashed behind the fender!
As I laid my head down on my pillow last night, I fell asleep with the image of those children in my mind, a symbol of the American hope and dream of peace, and freedom, a glimpse of Americana.
(I wrote this last summer, it was July 3rd when we went up to the quarry. As mentioned elsewhere, I am a fan of musician Jackson Browne, and I'm just nutty enough to belong to a Jackson Browne message board.
I posted that piece on the Jackson Browne message board. Just about two months ago, another member wrote a post, saying that my post had inspired him to write a song (he's a struggling singer/songwriter). And here is his song, "Glimpse Of Americana." He's copyrighted it under his name, and mine. It hasn't sold yet, so I still have to sell Tupperware, lol!!!!)
“A Glimpse of Americana” © 2005 Doug Barnett & Brenda Milloy
On a pleasant day trip to the woods
As sunshine over flowed
We passed some children waving
From a tractor near the road
Waving back I know it brought
A smile to my face
Felt like stopping then and there
Just to mark the place
(chorus)
A glimpse of Americana,
A shadow from the past
As if to say this country has
Come back home at last
The things we share together
Despite the world’s call
The hope and dreams of peace,
And freedom for us all
Perhaps the kids imagined where
All those cars had been
Oregon to eastern Maine
And driving home again
We rolled along through forest green
Amid flashes of blue skies
With summers’ smiling children
Burned into my eyes
Last bits of golden light
Touching on green leaves
Company of my good friends
Was the gift I had received
Now and then the scent of hay
And clover fills the air
Takes me to that distant farm
And children waving there
We got a call from them yesterday morning, saying Dan had been up to a rock quarry the day before, getting rocks for his landscaping project, they were both going today, it's a great scenic drive, views of the upper Clackamas (jokingly said to be called that because the native americans would go down the river in their birch bark canoes, get out and say "ha! that river clack-um-ass!" Because of all the rocks, you see!), and Mt. Hood, and choice swimming holes in the upper Clackamas, and did we want to come?
So we grabbed suits, towels, bottled water and out we headed.
We rolled along through hobbit forests and bright blue skies.
Once at the quarry, the men went and sized up the rockery to be had while Karin and I got off some shots of Mt. Hood, watched the dog to make sure she didn't take off after a rabbit in a log, and I even tried my hand at banging two rocks together to make a clovis point spearhead.
We had a nice day out in the woods, a nice picnic (plenty of flat table-sized rocks lying around, thank goodness Dan didn't want to try and take those home), and the company of good friends.
On the way home, in Marty's Camaro with the T-tops off, last bits of golden light touched green leaves and danced off the water. Cool sweet air rushed by; once in a while as we passed an isolated farm, the scent of hay and clover would fill the air.
Once, we passed a farm with a piece of farm machinery sitting near the road. Perched on it like sparrows on a wire were a group of children, in summer shorts and tee shirts. One boy had a red popsicle ring around his mouth.
They waved to the car in front of us, they waved to us. They waved to the car behind us, and the cars in the opposite lanes, too. We all waved back, I'm sure, I know I did, it was such a lovely thing to see, it brought a smile to my face, and I felt like stopping the car and joining them up on their perch, waving to the cars that pass, and perhaps imagining where those cars were headed, or where they'd been; to the mountain, maybe, or headed to the coast, to Zanzibar, oh look, that old pickup there, maybe he's got some 'shine stashed behind the fender!
As I laid my head down on my pillow last night, I fell asleep with the image of those children in my mind, a symbol of the American hope and dream of peace, and freedom, a glimpse of Americana.
(I wrote this last summer, it was July 3rd when we went up to the quarry. As mentioned elsewhere, I am a fan of musician Jackson Browne, and I'm just nutty enough to belong to a Jackson Browne message board.
I posted that piece on the Jackson Browne message board. Just about two months ago, another member wrote a post, saying that my post had inspired him to write a song (he's a struggling singer/songwriter). And here is his song, "Glimpse Of Americana." He's copyrighted it under his name, and mine. It hasn't sold yet, so I still have to sell Tupperware, lol!!!!)
“A Glimpse of Americana” © 2005 Doug Barnett & Brenda Milloy
On a pleasant day trip to the woods
As sunshine over flowed
We passed some children waving
From a tractor near the road
Waving back I know it brought
A smile to my face
Felt like stopping then and there
Just to mark the place
(chorus)
A glimpse of Americana,
A shadow from the past
As if to say this country has
Come back home at last
The things we share together
Despite the world’s call
The hope and dreams of peace,
And freedom for us all
Perhaps the kids imagined where
All those cars had been
Oregon to eastern Maine
And driving home again
We rolled along through forest green
Amid flashes of blue skies
With summers’ smiling children
Burned into my eyes
Last bits of golden light
Touching on green leaves
Company of my good friends
Was the gift I had received
Now and then the scent of hay
And clover fills the air
Takes me to that distant farm
And children waving there