<html><head><meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"></head><body style="word-wrap: break-word; -webkit-nbsp-mode: space; line-break: after-white-space;" class=""><div dir="auto" style="word-wrap: break-word; -webkit-nbsp-mode: space; line-break: after-white-space;" class=""><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="">Nostalgia<o:p class=""></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p class=""> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">What can I tell you about these days</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p class=""></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">when someday you will ask for stories?<o:p class=""></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">Shall I describe the undulating whirr of crickets<o:p class=""></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">along the forest road where your grandfather and I <o:p class=""></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">pick blackberries in the long autumn shadows?<o:p class=""></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">The cows low back and forth<o:p class=""></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">to one another in late afternoon, but in the morning<o:p class=""></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">it’s chickens cackling at the nearby farm, <o:p class=""></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">heralding that their eggs have been laid.<o:p class=""></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">We buy those eggs in the mercantile<o:p class=""></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">and love the glossy orange yolks, waiting to be broken<o:p class=""></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">and spill across a white plate.<o:p class=""></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p class=""> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">Or perhaps I could tell you of the old forest<o:p class=""></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">where we hunt mushrooms—chanterelles and lobsters<o:p class=""></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">now that fall has arrived.<o:p class=""></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">The cinnamon smell of dust on fir needles<o:p class=""></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">and the knobby bumps on undersides of<o:p class=""></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">browning fern fronds as we crunch through the woods,<o:p class=""></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">daydreaming recipes for our harvest.<o:p class=""></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p class=""> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">Last night it rained, the first time this September.<o:p class=""></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">The wind blew sideways and all night we could hear<o:p class=""></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">waves crashing on the beach. <o:p class=""></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">The air is warm and salty, carrying a river<o:p class=""></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">of moisture to us when we most need it,<o:p class=""></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">slaking the forest’s thirst and calling back the salmon.<o:p class=""></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p class=""> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">I know there are those who cry their jeremiads, <o:p class=""></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">say the world is ending, lament everything that is past<o:p class=""></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">and remembered with such beautiful and blind nostalgia.<o:p class=""></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">But I would say to you that these days are irreplaceable<o:p class=""></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">as well and not to be so lightly dismissed.<o:p class=""></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">For one, you are here now<o:p class=""></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">and so am I still.<o:p class=""></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">The day beckons us to cast our lines into the river, <o:p class=""></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">seek the flash of silver beneath the surface, <o:p class=""></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">then return home to cook together and listen<o:p class=""></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">for the rain.<o:p class=""></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br class=""></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>- Elaine Watkins</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p class=""> </o:p></p></div></body></html>