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Minnesota, My Home By Elias Carlson
Minnesota is the place I call home, The place in which I live free and happy. The Summer comes bright and beautiful as if to say, slow down and everything will be alright. Children’s laughter echoes through the streets of town while they run and play. In the country cattle beller in the distance, the sound filling me with joy. The rattle of the hay-bine and swather are music to my ears, and the smell of hay makes me reflect on the good times I’ve had here on this old farm. The river runs by the hay field taking its time, not having a care in the world, which way the next bend will take it. The old saw-mill yard stands barren ever since it was shut down years ago. The shed sags and groans tired from being used, and the wind blows all season long, Gradually at first, slowly but surely. Autumn awakens and the days Start to get shorter again, the trees turn their colors, a wondrous sight really. The contrast between the deciduous forest and the evergreen trees still takes my breath away, though I’ve seen it almost seventeen times. The river fills up with dead leaves, making the stream look like an ocean of red, yellow and green. I take the dog deep into the woods to hunt grouse, and search for this year’s deer hunting hot spot, the dog sniffs out a grouse and lets out a yowl sending the bird into the air, and into my shooting zone. Days full of fun, until now, Winter rears its ugly head, making the fun times scarce and bringing in a scornful blizzard, which rages forever and ever, whiting out the ground, taking hopes and dreams of the wondrous warm days and crushing them underneath its giant horrid feet. The night wind howls constantly, like a ravenous pack of wolves clawing at the old house threatening to take it down piece by piece. Then old Minnesota calms herself down and relaxes while her inhabitants enjoy a few days of calm warm weather, where it gets so warm and the sun shines so bright on the compacted snow, sun burn is inevitable. This awful season drags on until, finally a new time has come. Spring is finally here again. It all starts with the geese coming back, their triumphant call is heard for miles. Then the tiny tint of green shows up again in the trees and the grass starts to grow, getting taller and taller until I first cut it, And at night, the cool breeze blows while I listen to the frogs calling back and forth to one another, and I sit with the spotlight ready to shine any deer that come on to the field so I can see how many we have this year. I will wait patiently for the warm days to come again, and make life good. Yes, I love this place, and I hope to never leave, as I know it will never leave me. |