There is something about this old farm out on the edge of the Delta that invites contemplation. Sometimes it comes from thinking about an old photograph taken from this very place featuring a person long departed. Sometimes it is the view of deer playing in the distant field where they know they are safe, or our geese walking the pond bank. Sometimes it is the quiet of a spring evening when the only sound is the wind whistling through the bamboo shoots.
One day this week it was prompted by the appearance of the sun in late afternoon after a day’s rain. Sometimes when this happens, the subtle play of colors across a yellow field and the uncountable shades and hues of green among the trees of our “rain forest” create a show that, though modest and unpretentious, is epic in its bold understatement.
I caught Brenda in such a moment that day. No cell phone or television could have come near to creating the simple pleasures of watching a day end in peace and tranquility. Only one person on the planet will ever know what she was thinking. That is becoming more unique in a world in which electronic communication allows people to share instantly with others any thought they might have. And some do.
How many others, I wondered, have watched the end of day from this place? The list would have included Native Americans, civil war veterans, schemers, workers, slackers, and the best humanity can offer. The scene would have been different—fields are cleared, water bodies altered, and new types of vegetation visible. But I thinking this spot would be familiar to any of that long list of spectators.
May they all rest in peace and may some moments of solitude in this spot have brought them joy.