Fields of Green

Tonight I didn't have a camera with me.

Tonight I didn't care.  Tonight I didn't need one because my heart doesn't forget moments like these.

Tonight was a normal, sweet and perfect night on the farm with my family.  Everyone got completely filthy and sweaty and gross.  The dog rolled in something dead.  You know, a typical farm day.  I bathed the dog in the tack room sink and after I'd soaped her down twice she still smelled.

"Ugh!  She still smells like death and woe!" I exclaimed.

"Who?  Me?" Bean's little voice piped from around the corner.  When I got my breath back from laughing, I said, "No, silly, not you!"

"Oh, who?  Sweet Pea?"

Why does my niece automatically assume that the smelly one is a baby?  When I assured her it was the dog who was stinky, she was completely uninterested and went right back to playing in the dirt.

We spent the late afternoon sprucing up the farm, then tucked in for a pizza dinner on the deck while the sun set.  The littles ate and laughed and we ate and laughed more.  Then, in the last minutes of light, my hubby and my dad went out back with Bean to throw the frisbee in the field.  I helped my mom pick up, then grabbed the baby and went to watch them play among the fireflies.

I put the baby in a little rolling car toy and pushed her down the drive.  When we hit the grass, she leaned over to let her fingertips brush the tops of the grass as we rolled along.  Is that not the best feeling, your fingertips just brushing over soft grass?  The fireflies twinkled like fairy dust all around us, and when we stopped at the fence, Bean came running over to us, feet bare and long hair flying and one of her hands all balled up in a fist.  I knew the answer before I even asked.

"Whatcha got in your hand, Beanie?"

"Oh, justa fi-a-fly."

Always, always does she have fireflies in her palm at twilight.  Sometimes as many as ten in one little hand.  I don't know how she does it.

We ran races, her on her trike and the baby in her car, up and down the driveway while the crickets sang in the background and the summer roses and honeysuckles filled the air with sweetness. We're back home now, and I can hear the rush of the highway in the distance, and my heart longs for space.  For frogs and creeks and crickets and chickens and honeysuckle and hard work.  For the smell of hay and clover and the calls of fox and geese and the sightings of deer.  But we are blessed, so blessed, that all we have to do is spend the day with my mom and dad and all of that is right beneath our fingertips.

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