Edie Thompson
A man was driving on an errand from his home in the city to a nearby farm area. In passing a farm, he noticed the farmer holding a pig up to an apple tree, allowing the pig to eat an apple. Curious activity, he thought to himself. On returning, he saw the farmer doing the same thing. So, he pulled over, parked his car, and crossed the road to ask the farmer why this was happening. The farmer replied that he was feeding apples to his pigs. The city guy said wouldn't it be more efficient and less time consuming to put the apples in with the pigs? To which the farmer replied, "What's time to a pig?"
(Tee hee) So, with all this time, my thoughts have returned to the sounds I heard as a child.
THE SOUNDS OF SUMMER
First were the soft murmurings of the robins as they prepared to sleep for the night. No use wondering if these might signify anything more than instinct. But what a wonderful sound, kinda like talking to itself. Although I'm over half a continent away, and almost a century beyond, I hear the Fort Collins robins making those same bedtime sounds. A lifetime of memories that I hope to hear again this summer.
We lived east of the north end of D.C.'s Walter Reed hospital. Each summer night (with windows wide open) we heard Taps broadcast from this Army post. Such a simple melody of 4 notes played by a solitary bugle or trumpet. Part of Army signals since the Civil War. I don't remember reveille ever, but missed Taps on winter nights when the windows were closed.
So, what of the dark of the night? I'm not certain whether it was a mocking bird or a catbird, but there were certainly songs to be heard.
I treasure these memories and appreciate this hiatus in our lives, giving us pig time to reminisce!
Please e-mail your comments to Edie Thompson