When Shadows Fall

When purple shadows fell and fireflies came out to dance in the deepening summer evening sky, I would listen to a whippoorwill sitting on a fence post at the edge of my grandfather’s field. Sometimes a pair of mourning doves would add their sad tones to the chorus of crickets and frogs from the swampy area behind the chicken house. I remember sitting on one of the large, green Adirondack chairs that claimed spots on the wide concrete porch that extended across the front of my grandparents Miner’s large farmhouse. They had another settee made of twisted grapevines and sapling pieces, but very few people used it because the ribs of the vines made the seat uncomfortable for the person’s sitting.

Four tall hemlocks stood guard at the entrance of the walkway spreading their branches to protect the house from the heat of the sun and the chill of winter winds. The porch became a shady haven where I often played or sought a quiet place beneath their thickly needled limbs. It was a cool sanctuary on the hottest of days, a dry refuge when the rains poured down, and even a haven from the cold winter winds.

Grandma Miner would store her rugs on the Adirondack settee in the winter. It made a great cocoon where I could to burrow deep into their warmth, away from the cold and the noise of aunts, uncles, and the horde of cousins inside. It was a relief after the boisterous voices or the accumulated heat of Gram’s wood burning cook stove and the mass of people gathered inside.

Gram’s house had one other sanctuary in the sitting room where children were forbidden to step foot, but if I was careful and quiet enough, I could slip inside and crawl behind the sofa. The sofa was bulky clad in pale blue, stiff, almost porcupine-feeling plush fabric. It was prickly and rough for any kid to sit on wearing shorts. The stiff fabric caused bare legs to itch almost to the point of being unbearable and eliminating a child’s ability to sit still for more than a few seconds.

Sometimes my memories fade as I age and shadows fall blurring or hiding names and places from my remembrance. That’s why I share these recollections in writing as they emerge from the past. I want my thoughts to be captured before they become lost or that darkness falls and the lights fail.