Freda's Garden:

Welcome to my Garden!
This is mom, feeding her chickens, when we lived on the farm.
If you lived on a farm when you were a kid, you may relate to
today's poem!

WINDS OF MEMORY
The winds that blow about me,
That touch my heart and soul,
Are the winds of memory
That o're my mind doth roll.

When I see familiar faces,
Or recall names from the past,
It causes a rush of memories,
That flood my mind so fast.

When I hear the cattle lowing,
Or thunder roll from a distant hill,
It reminds me of "supper time."
And the first call of a whippoorwill.

There are certain smells,
That bring pictures to my heart and mind,
Wild-flowers, wood smoke,
And smells of cedar and of pine.

I never see a wash-pot,
Or clothes flapping in the breeze,
That I don't think of my mama, o'er the rub board,
 Scrubbing at our collars and our sleeves.

When I eat a country breakfast,
Of sausage, bacon and biscuits too,
I recall my childhood
And the things I use to do.

How I loved the red-eye gravy,
And good old country ham,
Butter, mixed with molasses,
Or mama's homemade jam.

Yes, the winds of memory,
O're my mind doth blow,
I pray to God in Heaven,
It will always be thus so!

Freda Fullerton
May 8, 2013