This post is in response to a prompt from Kelly at *Weekly Anamnesis.* I like Kelly’s word prompts to help me think of something to write. She is not picky about when someone uses a word. It can be an old word. This one is. I actually posted it on Ducky’s site, Hints and Guesses before I had a blog, but thought I would reprise it here since I need some stuff while I am away.
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Evening always makes me think of summers during my childhood in southwestern Missouri.
Being a child, the extreme humidity there was not as noticeable to me as it is now. I really remember no discomfort about evenings at all, though I know there had to always be mosquitoes.
I loved to sit on the porch (front or back) and just look. Look at the trees moving softly in the gentle breeze. Look at the flowers as their colors faded with the light. Look at the cats and dogs playing (not necessarily with one another). Look at the sky as it changed from hot, hazy white to pinks and oranges to deep, star-dotted blues.
Like most children, I could not sit still forever, so I would get up and chase a rabbit, coax the cat to come to me or practice cartwheels. I do not remember when I first started doing cartwheels, but someone instilled in me at a very young age that they must be straight-legged cartwheels. I do not know if my legs were really straight, but I practiced all the time. They felt like they were straight. I remember loving how the cool grass felt on my hands as I did cartwheel after cartwheel.
As it got darker, I would love to return to the porch to sit and watch the sky as it turned dark blue higher in the sky, and yet remained a paler color, even yellow, near the horizon. The color surrounded me, and I became a part of it.
And there were the sounds. The brushing sound of the trees in the breeze. Crickets and locusts and tree frogs. It was loud, but to me it was just ordinary. I took it all for granted. Now I miss it. There was always sound in the country in southwestern Missouri. Bugs and frogs at night. Birds in the day. I remember the first time I heard songbirds where I live now; it almost shocked me.
As I watched the sky get darker and darker, a new light would appear. Fireflies–. something else I took for granted. As they more and more filled the evening darkness, I would jump up from my spot and run to catch them. There were always old pickle jars with holes in the lids by the doors in which to collect them. My brother and I would fill those jars and stare and stare at them, waiting for them to all flash at one time. It never happened, but we for some reason thought it would be so unbelievably cool if they did. So we kept hoping. And watching.
The breeze of evening always felt sublime. The days were hot, and the evenings were reprieve. The light wind was rarely cold in the summer, only soothing. The feeling of the soft air wafting against my skin while watching the sky change from dusk to night might be my favorite memory of summer evenings.
Sometimes I would turn on a porch light and pretend I was singing on a stage. I would grab my jump rope and use the handle like a microphone. It warms my heart to see my daughters doing similar things on the landing of our stairs now. The singing would have to come to an end quickly, however, for the moths would be thick, flocking to the light and getting stuck in my hair.
Maybe I would walk around our large yard and watch how things changed in the waning light. We had lots of trees and flowers. I always loved things that grow, and I loved to see and touch them as the day made its way to a close. Somehow they felt smoother and softer in the cool of the evening.
Then my bare feet might feel something cold. And slimy. My shriek would pierce the peaceful evening. It was time to go inside, with toes stuck together by slug slime. Time to forget the fading light and the mesmerizing sounds and the gentle breezes caressing my skin. It was time to go inside, grab the salt and return (with shoes) for the more barbaric activities of the evening.
August 1, 2008 at 6:54 pm
I loved this the first time, and love it now. I can see your younger self doing all these things, and it wouldn’t even surprise me a little to see you do them now.
(Can you teach B to do cartwheels? She’s doomed if it’s up to me.) 🙂
August 1, 2008 at 9:08 pm
I remember weather never seemed to be an problem when I was little. I would lay out in the grass and look up at the stars in the warmer months. I remember it seemed like I could stay outside for hours no matter what the weather when I was younger.
Oh and the age thing I am a year and a day older than my oldest sister. I’ve decided this closeness of age is the unspoken family tradition. My mom’s older sister is 13 months older than her and her younger is just shy of 17 months younger. My dad and his brother are 11 months apart. And then my sister that is just younger than me has 5 kids ages 5, 4, 2, 1 and 3 weeks. There is roughly 16 months between each of the oldest four and then just over 11 months between the last two. See what I mean by a family tradition.
August 2, 2008 at 6:36 am
I loved this when I saw it the first time and i still love it.
August 2, 2008 at 9:13 am
That was lovely. Except for the last part!
August 2, 2008 at 4:38 pm
Arriving here poofed from working my Reader and after 45 sites I visited, yours is the last – and
your beautiful story lifts the spirits again! Very well written! Have a good one!
Cheers, Klaus
August 2, 2008 at 6:03 pm
OMG!!! You totally captured summer evenings in SW Missouri, you even remembered the slugs. 🙂
August 2, 2008 at 10:50 pm
this is a beautifully written piece louise, keep it up
August 2, 2008 at 11:15 pm
Thanks for the memories. Many of mine of my middle-of-the-state Missouri youth are the same. All in all, a wonderful time in my life.
August 3, 2008 at 1:40 am
Louise, I’ve been smiling at all the wonderful comments you;ve left on my blog – especially the one about Verse And Worse.
Seriously, though, this is a brilliant post. You have painted a great word-picture for us.
Thank you.
August 3, 2008 at 7:20 am
Wonderful memories!
August 3, 2008 at 7:47 am
Geez Louise, You described my childhood exactly except you left out playing “hide and go seek” after dark and the June bugs. I was a cart wheel queen. Last summer I actually tried to to a cartwheel and did it but had sore upper leg muscles for days afterwards. LOL My cart wheel days are over.
August 3, 2008 at 9:16 am
Splendid text and wonderful image, Louise.
August 3, 2008 at 9:26 am
A fine nostalgic image and comment. I’m sure everyone reading this has a a deep-seated emotional response and refreshed memories. Here we have no fire flies…and I miss them!
August 3, 2008 at 2:22 pm
Many of the comments have captured my response to your writing. This is a really fine nostalgic piece – well structured, well written. The image is a joy. Personally, I even enjoyed the slug bit. What I need to know, though, is the barbaric revenge meted out to them!
May I also say that your blog is looking more streamlined each time I visit. I wonder why you have chosen the larger font size? Your style of writing and the topics you choose may be complemented by something smaller. Just me, I suppose …
August 3, 2008 at 2:43 pm
Thought I would come back and say something more in response to one of your comments on my blog.
You are a poet, you know. Your writing shows strong evidence of a poetic sensibility. However, to respond in a way that most people think of as a poem, means to pare back the words to just the kernel of what you mean: The less is more rule. That is why the structure of the haiku helps me. You could try with this post you have about childhood evenings. Three or four lines of what happened and what it meant to you. Write different versions and persevere even when you think it stupid! It takes me a full day to produce one of mine with anything up to to a dozen versions.
August 3, 2008 at 5:44 pm
I swear you just wrote about my childhood. Cartwheels and all! I was in a different state-but our memories are amazingly the same. I really loved this post!
August 3, 2008 at 8:05 pm
What a lovely memory. Your words are so poetic.
August 3, 2008 at 11:04 pm
A splendid word painting.
August 4, 2008 at 1:25 pm
Thanks for taking me back…so many years…to things that also happened to me.