August 30, 2014
I’ve heard stories of an Indian settlement, nestled under the pines, on the other side of the creek.
This area is filled with natural springs so it is easy to imagine Indians gathering there to quench
their thirst. They were Potawatomi. Say that word slowly- Potawatomi- isn’t it fun rolling that
off your tongue?
While I sit on the front porch, listening to the night songs and looking at the constellations,
I imagine their chanting songs floating across the prairie.
As my garden’s bounty dwindles, I look around and wonder- what would I eat? I don’t see much.
That’s just it- I don’t see. The Indians knew this land much better than me. Something deep
within me craves to experience their deep knowledge of the land.
This small plot has already changed us in our short time here. My son can rapidly
identify most wildflowers. I bribed him- 10 cents per flower. Why? It opened
his eyes. He really sees the flowers now. Thirty years from now when he walks by
an asiatic dayflower, he will remember his youth and the carefree days running
through the fields searching for wildflowers.
It has been a golden summer. We walked the creek harvesting watercress; picked fresh
raspberries, before breakfast, for our cereal; ate mulberries, by the handfuls,
while exploring every corner of this farm. We practiced reading in a hammock hanging
from a massive maple tree;
added relics to our museum in the barn;
hit baseballs until we were significantly sweaty; and then jumped into the cooling waters of the pond.
We climbed trees and ate an amazing amount of fresh picked vegetables.
And yes, we chased peacocks. So, like the Potawatomi before us, we have roamed this
land and have been nourished in both body and spirit. Have a great weekend everyone!