Rewriting our childhood

Following Hannah Hinchman's advice, I have begun to re-remember my childhood, recording my memories of the fields, streams, woods, and prairie land that surrounded my childhood home in rural southern Wisconsin. In between my nature memories from my Midwestern childhood, I am adding descriptions and reflections from my walks through the woods, fields, and marshes of the suburban New England town that is now my home.

I invite you to share your memories of nature from your childhood or your responses to nature as an adult in the comments.

Katy Z. Allen
January 21, 2012

Note: Unless otherwise credited, photos were taken by me.

Sunday, March 25, 2012

Windmill



The ladder up the windmill
Photo by Mary North Allen
Looking up the hill
from beside the barn 
The windmill above the barn no longer provided the energy needed to run the pump at its base. An electric switch opened a circuit to bring electricity to power the pump. But the blades atop the windmill continued to rotate in the wind, and the ladder to the top of the windmill was still intact.






A winter view toward the northwest from the windmill
Photo by Mary North Allen
More than once I climbed to the top of that ladder. From just below the windmill blades I could see over the barn roof and the treetops, up and down the three small valleys that came together at the creek juncture below the house. And when I turned around, I could see beyond the orchard to the large hilltop alfalfa field and the lone tree in its middle. 


It was a fine view.
View toward the ocean from atop Mount Agamenticus,
York, Maine, elevation 691 feet
Photo by Gabi Mezger




Not seeking
Just being...


Not defining
All accepting.


No demanding
Faith expanding.


Without knowing
Ongoing...


Inner listening
Gladness -- glistening.               --Albert Krassner


Be still, and know that I am God.   --Psalm 46:10
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1 comment:

  1. Tom SteinbergJanuary 4, 2016 at 7:12 PM

    That windmill - yikes! You made that climb? I could not have - not a fear of heights so much as falling, I say. The heights issue was resolved somewhat ca. 1979 with psycholytic exposure therapy with Bruce Hayse in some Idaho mountains.

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