http://bbr.tribe.net/thread/56d65c17-0117-4215-bc09-003d42ec871b?format=rss Tribe.net. Local Connections http://bbr.tribe.net/thread/56d65c17-0117-4215-bc09-003d42ec871b#f3b53b30-595e-49eb-9d5a-29c7719b7e1e Ode to the meadow garden. I remember visiting you late one summer.......walking past the pond .... the wind wisping through the trees...... the coolness of a late afternoon breeze coming off the mountain. Behind me the creeks gentle roar.......the bridge squeeks... ... the sweat lodge to my left..... i see the gate up ahead... green all around.... my feet climb up the path... I enter..... the wind blows all the scents all around me ..... the veggies growing... ... i see the millit growing tall .. i see the water running down the side of the path......next to the apple tree............ the meadow cabin....... to my left........i sit under the tree........ i ate of her fruit.... oh the sweetness of those apples........ we pick it seemed wheel barrels of them that late summer...... bringing them to the main house...crossing the bridge......... dubble digging in this little field ...sowing food...reaping the harvest.... .. quiet........... the quiet speaks to me .... the tall grass's bend in the wind......... i hear someone blow the conch from the main house.......... a meal cooked with love...... a garden that was planted by all and for all with love, caring, gentleness, meekness, willingness..... she gives food to us.........nourishing us looking out of the meadow cabin i see the apple tree... the water rippling by it......bubbling.......... night........ the day is closing ....coolness comes in to the meadow........... a fire roars in the little old oven..... candles light up the cabin....reflections from the windows and the light dancing around the room........ i walk out to the front porch ........ looking up above the meadow garden .......... the trees .... the stars...... the night......................someone blows the conch shell once more......... i walk down the little path with my candle that old bugler metal cigarette can... i pause at the gate... i look back to the cabin....and the light of the candle shining thru the windows...... .......... ..... .....i hear the creek, the bridge squeaks........ i close the gate..... my friends wait .. pond to my left........... ... i hear the voices from the past as they jump in........ the bridge swings as i walk... my candle flickers in the breeze....... main house glows of orange, yellowish lights.... music fills the front porch..... the meadow garden peacefully rests and we live on alex Wed, 24 Jun 2009 04:14:20 GMT http://bbr.tribe.net/thread/56d65c17-0117-4215-bc09-003d42ec871b#f3b53b30-595e-49eb-9d5a-29c7719b7e1e alex 2009-06-24T04:14:20Z