August, die she must…

…the autumn winds blow chilly and cold.

Well, not quite yet. August in Indiana is usually 30° warmer than I’m comfortable with, but there’s no denying the change in the air.

As I drove home from work yesterday, with window down and Led Zeppelin thundering from my Jeep’s beleaguered speakers, I was drawn to the smells of First Harvest. I passed several fields of freshly mowed hay and I could not help but be transported to the days of my youth when such smells with the harbinger of weeks of back-breaking but satisfying work ahead.

In as much as I equate rummage sales and homemade ice cream to my paternal grandparents, my maternal side is punctuated by memories of horse stalls and baling hay.

hay

If you would have told thirteen year old me that one day I would miss spending hours tossing and stacking hay, that younger me would have called you worse than a fool, but it’s true.

I miss those corded muscles of youth, the sweat and exhaustion of a sixteen hour day spent on rickety wagons and in sweltering barn lofts, and the taste of a lukewarm Dr. Pepper gulped down in the shade of a rundown pick-up truck.

These feelings grow with each passing year, but I felt those memories more heavily yesterday, a soulful burden I was more than happy to bear. I imagine I will feel that weight even more in the days that lie ahead…

.:.

My latest literary endeavor — First Born: Tales of the Liber Monstrorum — is available via Amazon and other online retail outlets in both ebook and trade paperback.

You might also be interested in checking out my Etsy store, TheOccultDetective.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: