If a man does not keep pace with his companions, perhaps it is because he hears a different drummer. Let him step to the music which he hears, however measured or far away. It is not important that he should mature as soon as an apple tree or an oak. No face which can give to a matter will stead us so well at last as the truth. This alone wears well. Say what you have to say, not what you ought. Any truth is better than make believe.
This quote is from Henry David Thoreau’s Walden. As I read this book yesterday these words just leap off the page into me and I sat the book down and thought a good long moment about me and my life. I thought about what I want and what would make me happy. I found a little bit of that happiness I seek this weekend.
I spent the weekend at my great aunt’s house in God’s country (Waverly Alabama). I needed to get away from the city and tone things down and live simply for a few days. No internet, no television, no traffic or the noise thereof, no outside influences other than nature. The sounds that filled her open windows were of a bob white in the clearing next to the woods near the house or the lonesome crow as he called to his brethren; the sounds of song birds and the breezes gently blowing called to me as well.
We had a good time and I had many moments of quiet contemplation and thought as I read a book I had been meaning to read for years. Yesterday, I spent most of the afternoon reading and taking long walks into the woods as I smoked my pipe and took in my surroundings. My great aunt stayed at the house doing her usual busy work of cleaning and canning. We had a simple supper of buttermilk cornbread, streak of lean, boiled squash with onions, and English peas with pearl onions. We sat a long time after supper on the porch watching a most beautiful sunset and went to bed after the sun disappeared. It grew quite chilly last night and you could feel the first influences of fall air here in the south.
We both got up this morning at six o’ clock as the sun was first rising. I slept very soundly to the night time sounds coming from an open window. I fixed a breakfast of home made biscuits that I had prepped the night before, pampered pork sausage, hickory smoked bacon, and strawberry preserves. We both halved a steaming hot percolator of coffee until it was gone with liberal dollops of fresh cream.
After breakfast, my great aunt wanted me to drive her down to Gold Hill, Alabama to pick pears for preserves and pickles. We spent several hours filling an old laundry basket full of ripe pears from a friend’s house. He also gave us a basket of ripe, fresh tomatoes from his vines in the back yard. We then headed to another neighbors house to pick fresh figs. I found out that picking figs is messy and sticky work as the white, gooey sap ran from the stem and onto your hands.
We then returned home and she taught me how to make pickled pears and pears preserves and how to can them to last the winter. She left the figs in the panty to ripen some more for a few days. I love learning these kinds of things. I do not want this kind of knowledge to be lost. She also showed me how to wrap some of the less ripe pears in newspaper to quicken the ripening process.
I had a great weekend and didn’t want to come home. Life just seems so real and yet so simple there in the country. Everything just feels and smells difference. It brought peace to my soul and a much needed respite. I am going back on Wednesday to spend the night as well. If it were up to my great aunt, I would be living with her but a few days a week must suffice. I must go get some supper started so I will end this post here. Good night.
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