June 27, 2020
Review, Edit and Update
Not much to edit on this one, only punctuation. Except for the title: the original post was titled Short Talkin'. Truthfully, it is titled Nature Talkin'
I enjoyed re-reading this gentle piece.
Nature Talkin'
“Here you go, Miss Dez. Just the way he likes it. Here’s one for you too. You know, I’ve developed a taste for his kind of ice tea myself. It’s real good. The mix you get out of a container is just full of sugar.” Cook handed Dez two glasses of ice tea, a sprig of mint in one of them. “This one with the mint is yours, Miss Dez. Samuel says he doesn’t want anything but strong tea and ice in his glass. I'm sure I don’t know why you're wanting to get out and talk with him. Short on talkin' and not always sweet, that's our Samuel.”
“I think he’s interesting, Cook.”
“But how can you know if he’s interesting when he doesn’t talk? Why if Martha and I didn’t talk it would be quiet as an empty church in here.”
“That’s what makes him interesting. Why is he such a quiet guy? What makes him tick? I don’t know…maybe I just like that he’s so intent just on his work.”
~~~~
Sun shone steadily over the estate. The air was filled with the scent of newly turned earth and apple blossoms. Samuel was thirsty. He knew Cook would have a jug of ice tea in the refrigerator. He'd be going up to the house when he was finished. He squinted at the figure coming toward the garden. "What's she comin' here for?'
“Samuel. Come sit down. I’ve got your tea.” Dez had unfolded lawn chairs, setting them up beside the garden. “Why thank you Miss……Dez is it? A glass of ice tea would hit the spot. Mind if I chew on my pipe?”
Those were the most words Dez had heard Samuel say in one breath since she met him. Not that they had many conversations, but Samuel's answers at best were about four words long. Samuel took the glass, dripping with condensation, and sat down. They sat quietly for what seemed like an hour to Dez. “You don’t talk a lot, do you Samuel?”
“Nope. The wind and the birds. They do the talkin’ out here.”
“I never thought of it like that, Samuel. We humans just clutter up the air with our chatter.”
“Not always. We just forget that we’re not the only ones talkin’.”
“You’re a bit of a philosopher, aren’t you, Samuel?”
“Don’t know about that. Just think we shouldn’t interrupt nature the way we do.” Samuel stood up, lifted his hat to scratch his head, and said: “Thanks for the tea and visit, Miss Dez.” He pulled a paper pouch of beans from his pocket. Tearing the top off, he walked to the garden. Dez sat for a few more minutes watching Samuel. He methodically opened a small trench directly below the string he had strung over the long row. Dez heard each sound - the tearing of the paper pouch, dry seed pebbling into Samuel’s toughened hands, the soft squish of the earth beneath Samuel’s knees, the sigh of the wind and the music of the birds.
“There is a way that nature speaks, that land speaks. Most of the time
we are simply not patient enough, quiet enough, to pay attention to the story.
~ Linda Hogan, poet and storyteller
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