The Fields Have Turned Brown (Ralph Stanley)
As the music flows past my ears, memory's which seem not of my era wander thought my brain. I see the fields and gravel roads, the small town and the houses that dot the large lots, the wagons and buckboards that are going to and fro on the roads. I wonder why I am in this time, as wonderful as it all is with the stuff we have been given, I yearn for a early time in which the pace was a bit more simple and lives turned on what was going on around them, within a 20 mile radius instead of wondering what someone was doing on the other side of the state. Rules were rather more of a guide-line rather than a law, there was something that was also missing, which is much of a damnation these days, political correctness.But as my mind and soul long for a time in the back of the old folks minds, I know that to keep with what my heart feels, I will continue with the traditions and practices of yesteryear and keep people wondering why I do what I do.
Labels: Life, Location, Memory
posted by Yamhill @ 10:59 PM
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