Melancholia

     What did I expect? Just as I became a teenager my uncle and aunt and their son and his family left the neighboring farm and moved to Washington State. Occasionally there were other moves in the community with deaths and retirements. Yet, it seemed that there was great stability and in my youth I failed to recognize the fluidity surrounding me.   
      Sixty years later it's abundantly clear how much has changed here. In my childhood I never imagined such change. Now when I see what has happened I feel melancholy. Old age brings a very different perspective. Driving by abandoned farmsteads I remember who lived there and often I visit their graves in "Joanne's" cemetery. Memories of the people, now either dead or far away, sift back to me. This likely is the truth in the saying "You can't go home again."
     I'm better than I sound, comfortably, relatively secure, blessed with family and friends. The Little House is a very good place to quarantine. The melancholy was triggered by driving a part of the community I seldom traverse and that was a stark reminder of the changes. Remaining blessed and grateful.........

Takk for alt,

Al

Water pump at Spring Lake Church (it works.)