It is Saturday here at the homestead and as winter begins to wave a frigid farewell there were icy tendrils of rain clattering on the roof. We got a call from the folks who bought Hillside farm from us two years ago. They were taking out some ornamental grass we planted over ten years ago and wondered if we wanted the plants. ‘Of course,’ I said. ‘I’ll be right over.’ I fired up my pickup and headed down Rt. 33 to Kingsbury Rd. It’s been quite a while since I had driven on Kingsbury Rd. and longer still since I had been up that dirt road to the old homeplace. As I was driving on Kingsbury I crossed the little Shade River and there on my right was the Carlton Church and Cemetery. We shot the cover to my Stars In My Crown CD in 2006 up there by the cemetery. I have history on this road. When I came to Southeast Ohio almost thirty years ago I knew almost no one. Today I there are people buried in the Carlton Cemetery I knew… and that is how it goes.
Up at old Hillside Farm we loaded the root balls in the back of my truck. ‘Would you like to look around?’ I was asked. That I would, and that I did. Near the hemlock tree by the side of the old house so many of our four footed friends rest. I took the stone with me when we moved… but our friends will rest there until they are only dust.
The Hemlock
July 6, 2003
In our garden there are four dogs
How does this garden grows
There’s Marlo, Glory, Vin and Zoe
We loved them all, God knows
The hemlock branches shade their rest
For this and time to come
The Door Of Summer’s opened wide
So they can play and run
They say no heaven can heaven be
If my dog’s not there to welcome me
I know this saying makes some sense
In Heaven’s realm there’ll be no fence.
And when my life comes to an end
On the other side, I’ll be with friends
I got to thinking about when the Bull Terrier clan went to rest and I was reminded of the Derek Walcott poem a friend sent me about Oddjob, a Bull Terrier
The silence
is stronger than thunder,
we are stricken dumb and deep
as the animals who never utter love
as we do, except
it becomes unutterable
and must be said,
in a whimper,
in tears,
in the drizzle that comes to our eyes
not uttering the loved thing’s name,
the silence of the dead,
the silence of the deepest buried love is
the one silence,
and whether we bear it for beast,
for child, for woman, or friend,
it is the one love, it is the same,
and it is blest
deepest by loss
it is blest, it is blest.
As time went by we lost cats, and more dogs and if there is ever a second coming, a lot of our four footed family will rise from that yard on Kingsbury Rd.
On The Grassy Hill
On the grassy hill in my backyard
Two of my best friends lived and played… Hazel and Nana
Occasionally, Napoleon… the littlest friend from the house would join them and
They would sit together as friends are wont to do
And regard the Universe with quiet love
They filled it with that powerfully gentle compassion
That only true friends can muster
They barked at the wind in the trees as it gently came
Down off the hill to visit them in their world
Which in it’s own way was more complete
Than the world of humans could ever be
Our time moves fast enough and theirs faster still
We must chase them through the stars to try to learn
To love as magnificently as they do in their natural state of
Perfect Grace.
Hazel is her name and I say is because she will always live in my heart
And in that place is more than enough room
For them all…
Those who have gone before are as present to me today
As they were when as puppies they took their first stumbling steps before my amazed and wondering eyes
In her life she has travelled almost the full measure of two decades closing in on the last quarter of the second
G_d has indeed bestowed yet one more blessed gift of love upon us
Would that I were home join Vanessa on that last walk yet I can see it in my minds eye.
Run free pretty girl, run free
You filled our world with love
Your Door Into Summer is open
Run free!
… and now on the grassy hill there is only Nana
And then Nana was gone… and then we moved… and life will continue until it doesn’t, and that too, is as it should be. I think of a song I wrote in 2003.
Blue skies in the afternoon
Breeze it starts to still
Two dogs sleeping, in the sun
They lie upon that grassy hill
At such a time, you think you’d find
The way to show your heart
But though you’re reaching, for her hand
Still you walk apart
The dogs have passed through their Door Into Summer and the hill no longer belongs to us. As a pilgrim on the road of life I know I am not alone.
It is a good day to be with family!
